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)  THE 


ELLIOTT   FAMILY; 


1 


OR,     THE 


TRIALS  OF  NEW-YORK  SEAMST?*ES^E,S1; ' 


BY  CHARLES  BURDETT, 


JLUTHOR   OF 

*'  NEVER  TOO  LATE,"    "TRIALS    AND    TRIUMPHS,"    "THE    ADOFTED   | 
CHILD,"    "  EMMA    OR    THE    LOST    FOUND,"    ETC. 


"  One  half  of  this  world  knows  not  how  the  other  half  lives." 


NEW   YORK: 
BAKER    &    SCRIBNER, 

145  NaPsau.Street,  and  36  Park  Row. 


)  1850. 


ENTERED    ACCORDING    TO    ACT    OF    CONGRESS, 

IN    THE  YEAR  ONE  THOUSAND  EIGHT  HUNDRED  AND  FORTY-FIVE, 

BY     E.     WINCHESTER, 

IN    THE    clerk's    OFFICE    OF    THE    DISTRICT    COURT    FOR    THE 

SOUTHERN     DISTRICT    OF    NEW-YORK. 


STEREOTYPED  BY  JOHN  MAC  NICOL,  XXX  ANN-STREET. 


& 


0  •.  -- 

I 


PREFACE. 


;  I  FUEL  it  due  to  myself  briefly  to  state  the  reasons  which  have 
;!  prompted  me  to  engage  in  a  task  of  this  nature,  one  more  befitting  ( 
'  and  properly  belonging  to  the   female  writers,  whose   feelings  j 
,  would  naturally  assimilate  to,  and  cause  them  to  sympathize  wit^  J 
•  the  sufferings  of  the  female  operatives  of  this  city.  j 

,'  I  suggested  the  idea  to  one  or  two  much  better  fitted  for  the  j 
f  dutj  than  myself,  but  no  action  was  taken  by  them.  .  I  then  de-  { 
)  termined  to  assume  the  responsible  task  myself  ;  and  commence!  j 
j  at  once  the  prosecution  of  inquiries,  to  the  end  that  I  might  pre-  ( 
/  sent  nothing  but  facts.  I  approached  the  task  with  diffidence,  for  ) 
)  I  felt  that  I  was  out  of  my  proper  sphere  :  but  the  motives  which  j 
)  have  prompted  me,  must  prove  my  apology  for  that.  J 

The  perusal  of  a  small  volume,  entitled  "  The  Wrongs  of  Wo-  j 

men,"  by  Charlotte  Elizabeth,  in  which  the  wrongs  and  sufferings  ) 
)  of  the  laboring  class  of  her  countrywomen  are  vividly  depicted,  left  j 
(  so  deep  and  abiding  an  impression  upon  my  mind,  that  my  own  ) 

attention  and  interest  were  fully  awakened  to  the  consideration  I 
'.  of  the  subject.  I  observed,  however,  that  her  chai'acters  wci'e  j 
!  drawn  exclusivclj  from  that  class  to  whom  toil  and  nardship  seem  j 


325714 


)  VI  PREFACE.  ) 

!  to  be  a  birthright  heritage, — from  those  who,  having  enjoyed  but  j 
j  few  of  the  comforts  of  life,  were  in  comparative  ignorance  of  the  , 
(  extent  of  their  own  privations.  ' 

j  In  subsequent  reflections,  I  could  not  fail  to  acknowledge  that  J 
{  the  wrongs  and  sufferings  so  faithfully  illustrated  in  the  writings  ) 
(  of  Charlotte  Elizabeth  belonged  not  alone  to  female  operatives  of  ; 
(  the  English  nation;  but  report,  inquiry,  and  close  observation  have  ) 
J  alike  borne  testimony  that  even  in  our  own  midst  the  same  J 
\  gi'ievances  existed.  Americans,  however,  have,  alas  !  their  portion  ] 
\  in  the  wrongs  and  oppressions  too  often  heaped  upon  the  class  of  { 
i  female  operatives  ;  and  I  did  hope  that  some  one  of  our  female  ) 
)  writers,  whose  talents  and  experience  so  well  qualified  them  for 
)  the  task,  would  bring  these  wrongs  before  the  public  in  some  { 
more  tangible  shape  than  had  yet  been  done. 

In  the  pages  which  follow,  there  is  no  single  line  which  cannot 

be  substantiated  by  abundant  proof  of  its  truth.     Indeed,  I  fear 

that  the  friends  of  the  operatives  will  accuse  me  of  not  telling  \ 

enough  ;  for  in  no  case  have  I  assumed  the  lowest  rate  of  wages  j 

i  paid,  but  invariably  that  which  may  be  termed  the  fairest  prices.  ^ 

t  I  have  perhaps  committed  an  error  in  weaving  a  story  with  such  J 

1  a  subject  :  but  I  felt  well  assured  that  a  dry  detail  of  facts,  how- 

)  ever  welbauthenticated,  would  be,  if  read  at  all,  forgotten  too  soon 

)  for  any  advantage  to  accrue  by  exciting  public  sympathy  to  those 

(  whose  advantage  I  had  in  view  ;  and  I  thought  it  proper  therefore 

i  to  endeavor  to  excite  an  interest  in  the  characters   portrayed, 

J  which  I  hoped  might  leave  some  permanent  impression. 

j      I  repeat,  there  is  nothing  of  imagination  in  this  volume.     The 

•!  family  of  Elliotts  did  reside  in  this  city,  but  not  under  that  name. 

\  Sufferings  such  as  I  have  detailed  were  their  portion  ;  and  there 


PREFACE.  VII 

)  is  not  a  single  street  in  this  great  metropolis  which  cannot  furnish 
j  a  parallel  case. 

{      In  the  introduction  of  the  frauds  perpetrated  in  one  branch  of  j 
)  manufacture  extensively  carried  on  in  this  city,  Cap  making ^  I  \ 
j  have  obtained  ray  statements  from  one  who  suffered  all  the  impo 
J  sitions  detailed  by  the  girl  whom  I  have  called  Miss  Edwards,  and  / 
\  much  more  and  worse  might  also  be  related  to  the  same  effect. 
{    ^^5L52I®-2M®^^  ^^  been,  to  show  to  the  public  the  utter  inade-  : 
j  quacy  of  the  compensation  paid  for  female  labor,  taking  into  con-  c  , 
i  sideration  the  nature  of  the  work,  and  the  time  consumed :  and  ; 
)  my  hope  is,  that  some  means  may  be  devised  whereby  the  condi-  \ 
}  tion  of  some  thousands  of  female  operatives  in  this  city  may  be  ! 
j  ameliorated.     It  is  idle  to  say  it  cannot  be  done.     If  public  sym-  j 
>  pathy  is  excited  in  their  behalf,  it  will  be  done;  and  if  the  ladies  of  j 
j  New  York,  ever  foremost  in  ©very  good  work,  will  but  step  forward,  ■ 
)  with  their  usual  promptness  and  energy,  I  cannot  doubt  that  suc- 
)  cess  would  crown  each  effort. 

V       I  have  in  my  possession  facts  establishing  the  most  outrageous 

<  frauds    and   impositions  practiced  upon  the  seamstresses  ;    but  ' 

j  although  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,  I  have  declined  to  use  them 

J  at  present,  for  the  very  fear  that  they  are  too  monstrous  to  obtain 

«  credence.     If  this  part  of  the  task  I  have  thus  taken  on  myself 

(  shall  meet  with  public  approbation,  I  shall  shortly  ask  attention 

J  through  another  volume,  to  the  condition  of  another  class  of  ope- 

^  ratives — those  who  are  compelled  to  work  in  shops  where  from 

thirty  to   two  hundred  are  daily  assembled.     I  shall  show  the 

^  frauds  and  impositions  practiced  upon  them,  the  temptations  to 

which  they  are  hourly  exposed,  and  the  inevitable  consequences  \ 

of  such  associations.     To  that  end,  I  shall  gladly  receive  any  well  \ 


';  VIII  PREFACE.  \ 


I  authenticated  statements  with  reference  to  this  branch  of  the  sub-  ) 
J  ject,  and  will  thankfully  avail  myself  of  any  information  which  S 
will  enable  me  to  present  such  facts  as  shall  exhibit  the  evils  I  j 
hope  to  see  corrected,  in  their  true  aspects.    The  motives  which  } 
have  prompted  me  to  present  this  volume,  must  prove  the  apolo-  { 
J  gists  for  the  defects  in  manner  and  matter,  which  are  too  palpable  j 
/  to  be  passed  over.    It  has  not  been  written  for  the  sake  of  writing,  - 
j  but  with  the  simple  wish,  that  through  the  statements  it  contains, 
public  attention  may  be  aroused  to  the  true  condition  of  the 
seamstresses  of  New  York  ;  and  some  measures  promptly  adopted, 
as  well  to  secure  (to  them)  something  like  an  adequate  compensa- 
tion for  their  toil,  as  to  guard  and  protect  them  from  the  frauds 
and  impositions  daily  practiced  on  them,  and  to  which  female  ope- 
ratives are  always  liable. 

The  Author. 


S" 


1 


CLARA   ELLIOTT. 


CHAPTER  I, 


In  an  upper  room  of  a  small,  but  neatly  furnished 
two  story  house,  in  one  of  the  many  streets  which  cross 
Broadway,  in  the  city  of  New-York,  a  mother  and  two 
daughters  are  grouped  about  the  sick  couch  of  the  hus- 
band and  father.  The  white  quilt  thrown  over  him, 
is  scarce  more  white  than  the  thin,  attenuated  hands 
which  are  moving  in  quick  and  restless  action  upon  it. 
The  snowy  pillow  lends  a  marked  contrast  to  the  ghastly, 
sallow  lineaments  of  the  sufferer,  whose  frame  is  ever 
and  anon  convulsed  with  agony,  in  the  effort  to  draw  the 
fast-expiring  breath.  The  eyes  are  fixed  and  glassy, 
lacking  all  expression,  save  that  of  terrible  anguish. 
The  lips,  white  and  covered  with  froth,  which  the  care- 
ful hand  of  the  weeping  wife  wipes  tenderly  away,  are 
colorless,  and  ever  and  anon  contracted  with  terrible 
pain. 
j  The  husband  and  father — the  kindest  and  best  of 
\  both — is  on  his  death-bed,  and  the  wife,  who  has  for 


10  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  | 

{  four  and  twenty  years  shared  in  his  joys  and  sorrows —  j 
the  wife,  who  has  never  known  a  change  in  her  feelings  j 
or  affections,  from  the  hour  in  which,  at  the  altar  of  God, 
she  plighted  her  maiden  vows,  to  the  hour  in  which  she 
stands  by  his  dying  couc  h — is  by  the  side  of  the  beloved 

1^  husband,  watching  the  glimmering  of  the  lamp  of  life, 
/ts  it  fliekei's.iii  ^s  socket. 
.  .  .TKe  .(Jaughters,  to9,  who  have  grown  up  under  his 

.'tendejp  care;  wJ\o  haye  ever  been  faithful,  dutiful,  af- 
fectionate children — the  daughters,  whose  career  from 
infancy  to  girlhood,  from  joyous  girlhood  to  matured 
youth,  he  has  watched,  with  jealous,  affectionate  care — 
are  beside  him,  longing  for  one  parting  word,  one  look 
of  kind  remembrance,  one  single  last  farewell :  but  in 
vain.  The  eyes  can  no  more  return  the  affectionate 
glances  which  were  wont  to  cheer  him  on  his  return  [ 
from  his  daily  toil.  The  tongue,  which  never  gave  ut- 
terance to  aught  save  words  of  love  and  kindness,  can 
no  more  respond  to  the  greetings  of  heartfelt  welcome, 
which  ever  awaited  his  return  to  his  cheerful  home. 
All  is  hushed,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  angel  of 
death  will  have  sounded  that  sumrnons  which  all  must 
obey. 

A  faint  motion  of  the  lips,  a  quivering  of  the  whole 
frame,  one  long,  deep-drawn  breath — the  last  expiring 
effort  of  nature  in  its  struggle  with  the  fell  tyrant — and 
the  dust  has  returned  to  the  dust  whence  it  sprang — 
the  soul  has  returned  to  the  great  Being  who  gave  it 
birth. 

Mrs.  Elliott  was  a  widow  ;  Clara  and  Laura  Elliott 


THE    ELLtOTT    FAMILY.  11 

were  fatherless ;  and  oh  !  how  much  do  those  two  words 
reveal  of  misery,  of  agony,  of  /wretchedness !  How 
much  of  awful  solemnity  is  crowded  into  those  two 
words — the  widow  and  the  fatherless ! 

Mrs.  Elliott  did  not  sob,  nor  shriek,  nor  swoon,  as  the 
'  event  was  not  sudden  nor  unexpected ;  for  her  husband 
had  laid  upon  that  bed  of  sickness  for  many  weary 
weeks,  suffering  more  than  falls  to  the  common  lot  of 
humanity,  from  a  painful  disease,  but  bearing  his  pains 
and  anguish  with  resignation  and  fortitude,  for  he  was 
upheld  by  a  strength  greater  than  his  own,  and  by  a 
grace  which  is  never  refused  to  those  who  seek  it  in  sin- 
cerity and  with  faith. 

Clara  and  Laura,  who  possessed  less  firmness  than 
their  mother,  though  they  too  had  looked  forward  to 
the  sad  bereavement  with  trembling  fearfulness,  could 
scarcely  realize  that  the  worst  had  now  befallen  them, 
and  their  grief  was  manifested  in  tears  of  bitterness, 
and  sobs,  which  they  could  not  repress.  Mrs.  Elliott 
carefully  drew  the  sheet  over  the  cold  and  stiffened 
form  of  him  she  had  loved  so  well,  and  summoning  her  I 
daughters,  left  the  chamber  of  death. 

The  news  was  soon  made  known  to  the  neighbors, 
many  of  whom  came  in  with  tenders  of  their  assistance 
if  required,  while  others  came  to  offer  sympathy  in  their 
bereavement,  and  both  were  gratefully  accepted;  for 
when  the  heart  is  bowed  down  with  grief,  it  readily  re- 
ceives, and  truly  appreciates  sympathy  from  feeling 
hearts,  and  willingly  suffers  itself  to  be  lightened  of  a 
part  of  its  dreary  load.  [ 


12  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

In  a  few  hours  the  body  was  encased  in  its  last  habili- 
ments of  death,  the  snowy  shroud,  and  the  narrow  cof- 
fin, that  common  receptacle  of  humanity,  held  him  in  its 
cold  embrace. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Elliott,  the 
house  was  thronged  with  friends,  assembled  to  pay  the 
last  tribute  of  respect  to  the  remains  of  one  who  had 
ever  been  eminently  worthy  of  all  T'espect  and  esteem 
while  he  was  among  and  with  them.  The  solemn  tones 
of  the  pious  minister  of  God,  impressively  urging  upon 
his  hearers  the  necessity  of  preparing  themselves  for  a 
summons  from  the  same  inexorable  tyrant,  fell  upon  the 
ears  of  many  who  vowed  inwardly  that  the  lesson  should 
not  be  lost  upon  them — upon  some,  who  forgot  it  ere  the 
sounds  of  his  voice  had  died  away — and  upon  the  ears 
of  others  who  had  their  lamps  trimmed  and  filled  with 
oil,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  bridegroom,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  go  forth  and  enter  with  him  into  the  marriage 
feast. 

A  long  line  of  friends  follows  the  body  to  its  last 
resting-place;  the  earth  receives  the  earth,  and  the 
crowd  separate,  each  to  return  to  his  respective  af- 
fairs, and  to  forget  in  a  few  hours  the  sokmn  scene  in 
which  he  has  performed  a  part. 

Mrs.  Elliott  and  her  daughters  returned  to  their  sad- 
dened home,  and  none  accompanied  them  thither :  for 
all  felt  that  their  grief  was  too  holy  and  pure  to  be  in- 
truded on  by  offers  of  comfort  or  words  of  consolation  at 
such  a  time.  Time  alone  could  heal  the  wound  which 
j  the  arrow  of  death  had  left  rankling  in  their  bosoms,  and  j 


o 

[  THE    ELL^IOTT    FAMILY.  13 

j  time  alone,  at  once  the  destroyer  and  the  silent  com- 
)  forter,  could  restore  to  them  the  peace  and  serenity  of 
I  which  they  had  been  robbed.      And  while  they  are 
mourning  in  the  sadness  of  their  hearts,  let  me  briefly 
(  narrate  some  of  the  most  material  circumstances  con- 
nected with  their  history,  necessary  to  a  proper  appre- 
ciation of  their  characters  and  feelings. 

Mr.  Elliott  was  a  mechanic,  who  had  married,  almost 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  his  time,  a  girl  whose  prospects 
were  not  more  brilliant  or  more  cheering  than  his  own. 
He  was  industrious,  economical  and  temperate .  Possess- 
ing a  warm  heart  and  an  affectionate  disposition,  he  was 
well  calculated  for  domestic  happiness,  and  in  the  partner 
whom  he  had  chosen  to  share  his  lot  with  him,  he  had 
found  all  he  dared  to  look  or  hope  for.   \ 

Mrs.  Elliott  was  the  daughter  of  a  worthy  man,  the 
only  child,  and  she  had  been  educated  as  well  as  his 
means  would  allow,  but  with  the  double  purpose  of  mak- 
ing her  useful  to  herself,  in  case  occasion  should  require, 
as  well  as  ornamental  in  society ;  and  she  was  as  truly 
happy  in  the  love  of  the  honest,  hard-working  youth 
who  sought  her  hand,  as  she  could  have"  Been  in  the 
glitter  and  vain  show  of  wealth,  with  all  its  heartlessness 
and  pride. 

He  prospered  in  his  affairs, 'and  sought  no  higher 
happiness  than  was  to  be  found  in  the  society  of  his 
beloved  wife  and  beautiful  children,  Clara  and  Laura. 
A  few  years  after  his  marriage,  husband  and  wife  were 
brought  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God,  and  became 
hoping,  trusting  members  of  the  church  of  Christ,  and  I 


14 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


acting  upon  consistent  principles,  they  sought  early  to 
instil  the  same  glorious  truths  into  the  hearts  of  their 
children,  which  had  ever  brought  peace  and  happiness 
to  their  home  and  hearts. 

Their  lives  were  marked  by  no  event  of  more  than 
ordinary  occurrence.  Mr.  Elliott  prospered,  and  secured 
friends  by  his  honest  and  prompt  mode  of  dealing,  while 
his  wife  and  daughters  grew  into  the  hearts  of  all  who 
were  admitted  to  their  friendship. 

Having  by  frugality  and  economy  amassed  a  little 
money,  he  had  invested  it  in  the  house  in  which  he  re- 
sided, leaving,  however,  nearly  one  half  its  value  upon 
mortgage  with  the  former  owner,  from  whom  he  had 
purchased  it.  At  the  time  he  was  taken  sick,  lie  was 
in  treaty  with  the  original  owner,  to  exchange  the  house 
and  lot  for  a  small  farm  in  a  neighboring  county,  but 
his  long-continued  illness,  and  subsequent  death,  pre- 
vented him  from  completing  an  arrangement  which  he 
had  long  cherished  at  heart ;  for  he  disliked  much  the 
idea  of  having  any  incumbrance  on  his  property,  and 
had  purposed  to  procure  the  farm  free  from  all  indebt- 
edness. 

An  examination  of  his  affairs,  which  took  place  soon 
after  his  death,  showed  that,  although  he  was  entirely 
free  from  indebtedness  to  any  person,  except  some  very 
trivial  amounts,  he  had  left  nothing  in  the  shape  of  pro- 
perty, except  the  house  in  which  his  family  resided,  and 
which,  as  I  have  said,  was  mortgaged  for  nearly,  if  not 
more  than  the  half  of  its  value,  and  the  term  for  which 
the  mortgage  was  given  had  nearly  expired. 


^^J^'^ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


15 


Mrs.  Elliott  consulted  with  a  friend,  in  whom  she 
placed  implicit  confidence,  and  acting  under  his  advice, 
made  efforts  to  dispose  of  tRe  house,  nothing  doubting 
that  the  surplus,  after  paying  off  the  mortgage,  would, 
if  properly  invested,  enable  her,  by  industry  and  fru- 
gality, to  maintain  her  family  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances. 

The  situation  in  which  she  was  placed,  rendered  a 
sale  absolutely  necessary ;  and  much  to  her  chagrin 
and  disappointment,  the  property  was  disposed  of  at 
what  might  be  almost  termed  a  sacrifice,  as  not  more 
than  one  hundred  dollars  were  left  for  the  widow,  after 
the  incumbrance  upon  the  house  had  been  paid  off,  and 
all  the  necessary  expenses  of  selling,  etc.,  defrayed. 

Smaller  apartments  were  immediately  hired,  and  into 
them  she  soon  afterward  removed,  with  her  two  daugh- 
ters, intending,  as  many  others  were  compelled  to  do, 
to  support  themselves  by  their  industry,  not  doubting 
that  with  their  needles,  they  could  earn  a  comfortable 
subsistence.  Clara  had  learned  the  trade  of  a  dress- 
maker, and  Laura  had  so  often  worked  at  tailors'  work 
for  her  father,  that  she  felt  confident  she  would  be  able, 
in  a  very  short  time,  to  earn  a  fair  livelihood,  while . 
Mrs.  Elliott  was  destined  to  the  charge  of  their  domes-  ! 
tic  arrangements,  and  to  do  all  she  could  to  assist  the 
girls.  ^  ! 

They  could  not,  of  course,  maintain  the  same  position 
in  society  which  had  been  accorded  to  them  during  the 
lifetime  of  their  father ;  but  they  did  not  complain,  for 
they  were  too  wise  to  grieve  at  the  loss  of  their  summer 


16  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

friends,  who  could  rejoice  with  them  only  in  their  pros- 
perity, but  who  deserted  and  forsook  them  at  the  first 
cold  breath  of  adversity ;  ftnd  as  they  had  never  been 
educated  or  taught  to  rely  for  pleasure,  much  less  for 
happiness,  solely  on  the  society  of  others,  the  loss  of  it  < 
caused  them  but  trifling  inconvenience,  and  they  lived 
cheerfully  and  contentedly  by  themselves,  and  for  them- 
selves alone,  looking  for  true  happiness  only  in  the  com- 
forts of  a  religious  life,  and  placing  their  sole  confidence 
and  trust  in  the  Great  Power  who  ruleth  the  destinies 
of  the  earth — of  its  great  and  rich,  as  well  as  its  poor 
and  needy. 


I 
) 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  17 


CHAPTER  II, 


In  an  elegantly  furnished  parlor,  in  one  of  the  fashion- 
able squares  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  a  lady,  who 
has  passed  the  age  which  is  termed,  by  courtesy,  uncer- 
tain, and  on  whose  brow  and  cheek  time  had  left  traces 
which  no  art  could  entirely  conceal — though  art  had 
been  called  in  to  replace  all  that  age  had  taken  away  of 
youth  and  beauty — is  seated  upon  a  soft  velvet  couch, 
languidly  giving  directions  to  a  servant,  who  is  arrang- 
ing a  great  variety  of  ornaments  about  the  room  for  a 
large  party  to  be  held  that  evening. 

Two  young  ladies,  her  daughters,  are  lounging  each 
upon  a  sofa,  watching  the  motions  of  the  harassed  ser- 
vant, and  ever  and  anon  turning  to  hear,  and  comment 
with  flippancy  upon  the  directions  which  issue  from  the 
lips  of  their  mother.  The  three  are  attired  in  loose 
morning  dresses,  and  have  evidently  passed  the  greater 
part  of  the  morning  hours  in  arranging  th^m,  so  as  to  | 
(  present  the  appearance  of  being  perfectly  careless,  but  ) 
(  at  the  same  time  as  becoming  as  possible.  ( 

'  "  There,  John,  that  will  do,"  said  the  elderly  lady,  as  ? 
i  John  moved  for  the  twentieth  time  a  magnificent  cande-  j 
(  labra,  which  had  been  purchased   for  the   occasion.  ! 


J  18  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  J 

"Has  Mr.  Watson  sent  home  that  set  of  China  I  en-  f 
gaged  yesterday  ?"  | 

"Yes,  ma'am."  ; 

"And  the  cut  glass?"  > 

"Yes,  ma'am."  ^ 

"  Very  well,  you  may  go  now,  and  see  if  the  articles  ) 
ordered  from  the  confectioner's  have  come  home,"  and  j 
the  obedient  John  withdrew,  leaving  the  mother  and  | 
daughters  alone.  ' 

"  Mother,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  youngest  of  the  [ 
young  ladies,  as  if  aroused  by  some  sudden  thought,  ! 
and  starting  from  her  recumbent  posture,  "have  you 
sent  a  card  to  Mr.  Robertson  ?" 

"  Mr.  Robertson  !  Why  certainly  not.  Nobody 
knows  who  Mr.  Robertson  is.  We  met  him,  it  is  true, 
at  Doctor  B  *  *  *  's,  the  other  night,  but  I  am  inclined 
to  think  he  was  only  asked  there  because  the  doctor  was 
a  great  friend  of  his  father  when  he  was  in  South  Caro- 
lina, and  could  not  well  avoid  asking  him." 

"I  am  sure,  mother,"  replied  the  young  lady,  who 
evidently  was  bent  upon  having  Mr.  Robertson  among 
the  guests  of  the  evening,  "I  am  sure  I  heard  Doctor 
B  *  *  *  say  he  was  a  young  man  of  excellent  family, 
possessing  brilliant  talents,  and  that  his  acquaintance 
would  be  an  acquisition  in  any  circle*  Besides,  I  am 
I  sure  he  was  very  attentive  to  us,  and  I  found  him 
1  very  interesting."  ; 

j  "He  may  do  for  Doctor  B  *  *  *  's  circle,  but  not  for  < 
I  ours,  Euphemia ;  so  make  yourself  easy,"  replied  the  ' 
I  mother,  imperiously.      "  He  is  not  a  match  for  either  of 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  19 

my  girls,  and  I  want  no  fortune-hunters  running  to  my 
house.     So  consider  that  acquaintance  as  at  an  end." 

"Mother,"  chimed  in  Maria,  the  elder  daughter,  "I 

am  quite  sure  you  do  Mr.  Robertson  injustice.      He  is 

not  a  fortune-hunter.     Indeed,  I  do  not  think  he  has 

ever  dreamed  of  a  wife  ;  for  he  is  just  commencing  his 

profession,  and  has  barely  means  to  support  himself." 

\      *^  Well,  well,  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  of  Mr. 

J  Robertson.      He  has  not  received  a  card,  and  will  not 

I  from  me,  and  I  doubt  not  we  can  manage  to  get  on 

j  without  him  for  one  evening." 

(      A  very  slight  pout  was  perceptible  upon  the  pretty 
\  lips  of  the  pretty  daughters,  whose  wishes  were  thus 
I  firmly  overruled,  but  they  knew  it  was  useless  to  con- 
j  tend  with  their  mother  upon  such  a  point,  and  wisely 
j  forbore  making  any  further  allusion  to  Mr.  Robertson. 
j      Mr.  Robertson,  who  appeared  to  have  so  much  inter- 
i  ested  the  young  ladies,  was  a  young  gentleman  of  very 
i  brilliant  talents,  as  Doctor  B  *  *  *  had  said,  who  had 
I  moved  to  New- York  to  pursue  the  study  of  the  law. 
j  His  father  had  been  immensely  wealthy,  but  unfortunate 
I  speculations  ruined  him,  and  at  his  death,  Charles  was 
(  left  with  a  slender  income,  barely  sufficient  for  his  sup- 
port ;  but  possessing  a  strong  mind,  he  did^TIt)t  give  way 
to  useless  repinings  at  the  loss  of  his  wealth,  and  having 
determined  to  carve  out  a  fortune  for  himself,  in  the 
pursuit  of  some  honorable  profession,  he  had  selected 
the  law  as  most  suited  to  his  temperament  and  talents. 
Doctor  B  *  *  *,  at  whose  house  the  ladies  had  met  him, 
was  an  intimate  acquaintance  of  his  father's,  and  he  soon 


V 


)  20  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  | 

learned  to  love  the  son,  not  only  for  the  father's  sake,  but  ( 
for  the  very  many  excellent  qualities  which  he  was  not  ( 
long  in  discovering  that  he  possessed.  Of  him  it  is  un-  j 
necessary  to  say  more  at  present.  { 

The  ladies,  whose  brief  conversation  the  reader  has  ( 
overheard,  deserve  a  more  particular  notice.  ( 

Mr.  Simmons  had  commenced  life  (so  far  as  is  known  ( 
to  history,)  as  an  errand  boy  in  a  lawyer's  office,  but  his  j 
activity  attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  his  master's  { 
clients,  a  wholesale  merchant,  who  had  taken  him  into  | 
his  employ  for  his  board  and  clothing,  until  he  could  earn  j 
more,  promising  to  advance  him  as  his  conduct  should  \ 
deserve.  The  advancement,  however,  did  him  little  good,  ( 
for  his  conduct  in  his  new  situation  became  so  displeas- 
ing to  his  employer,  that  he  was  compelled  to  turn  him 
adrift ;  and  he  was,  after  wandering  about  for  several 
weeks,  almost  in  a  state  of  starvation,  picked  up  by  a 
poor  but  charitable  tailor,  who  taught  him  his  trade. 

Of  his  parents  he  knew  nothing,  but  it  is  charitable  to 
presume  they  were  very  worthy  and  respectable  peo-  i 
pie.  He  had  not  the  most  indistinct  recollection  of 
them,  and  therefore  any  allusion  to  them  could  not 
cause  him  any  pain,  nor  was  he  in  any  danger  of  having 
j  their  faults  or  vices — if  they  had  any — thrown  in  his  ] 
{  teeth,  as  he  had  no  recollection  at  all  pf  them.  ; 

j       He  managed  to  stay  with  his  kind  master  until  he  had  J 
j  learned  his  trade  sufficiently  well  to  set  up  for  himself;  j 
and  just  when  he  was  beginning  to  be  useful  to  the  man  ) 
j  who,  through  motiv^es  of  charity,  had  given  him  food  and 
J  shelter,  he  left  him,  to  carve  out  a  fortune  for  himself.     J 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


21 


At  the  age  of  twenty-three,  he  fejiin  with  a  pretty 
seamstress,  who  worked  for  the  same  shop  as  himself, 
and  after  a  very  short  acquaintance,  they  were  made 
man  and  wife.  Her  parents  (she  had  the  advantage  of 
Mr.  Simmons,  in  knowing  her  parents,)  had  managed  to 
make  a  livelihood,  the  father  as  a  shoemaker,  and  the 
mother  lending  her  assistance  in  the  support  of  the 
domestic  establishment,  by  keeping  a  stand  in  one  of  the 
markets,  for  the  sale  of  fruit,  vegetables  and  flowers. 

Ellen,  their  only  child,  had  none  of  the  advantages  of 

education,  but  she  had  a  strong,  masculine  mind,  and 

made  up  in  boldness  what  she  lacked  in  information. 

Soon  after  the  marriage  of  the  happy  couple,  the  parents 

of  the  young  wife  set  her  up  in  a  small  fancy  store  in 

Division-street,  while  a  room  over  the  store  served  at 

once  for  a  parlor  for  the  family,  and  a  workshop  for  Mr. 

Simmons,  who  contrived  to  get  a  good  share  of  custom, 

"Great  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,"  and  so  it 

proved  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simmons.      In  due  process 

of  time,  Mr.  Simmons  opened  a  shop  for  himself,  and 

Mrs.  Simmons  gave  up  the  fancy  store,  to  lend  him  a 

helping  hand,  and  to  take  care  of  the  two  daughters, 

Maria  and  Euphemia,  who  had  blessed  their  union. 

The  small  shop  became  in  time  a  large  one ;  then  it 

\  was  moved  into  a  more  fashionable  street,  and  finally, 

]  it  was  abandoned  entirely,  Mr.  Simmons  having  gone 

\  into  the  wholesale  clothing  business,  and  Mrs.  Simmons, 

I  whose  parents  by  this  time  had  died,  having  cut  all  her 

I  old  associates^  had  set  up  for  a  fine  lady,  and  suffered 

!  no  available  opportunity  to  pass  without  impressing 


f\ 


22  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  j 

upon  the  minds  of  her  daughters,  now  growing  rapidly  ( 
into  womanhood,  the  necessity  of  forgetting,  as  much  as  ( 
they  possibly  could,  by-gone  times,  and  treating  with  ! 
contempt  all  who  were  poorer  than  themselves.  <, 

They  were  sent  to  the  most  fashionable  schools,  and  j 
Mrs.  Simmons,  who  had  sense  enough  to  be  fully  con-  '■.. 
scious  of  her  own  ignorance,  improved  herself  by  taking  \ 
private  lessons  from  a  lady,  whose  poverty  compelled  J 
her  to  humble  herself  before  this  haughty,  purse-proud  ( 
woman. 

Mr.  Simmons,  at  the  time  of  his  introduction  to  the 
reader,  has  amassed  a  handsome  fortune,  lives  in  splen- 
did style,  in  one  of  the  most  fashionable  squares  in  the 
city,  moves  in  the  best  circles,  gives  magnificent  enter- 
tainments, and  no  one  inquires  who  he  was  or  whence 
he  sprang,  while  the  same  convenient  neglect  is  extend- 
ed to  Mrs.  Simmons,  to  whom  the  position  of  a  fashion- 
able woman  is  readily  conceded,  by  those  not  more 
wealthy  than  herself.  1 

The  daughters,  Maria  and  Euphemia,  are  handsome, 
dashing,  fashionable  girls — too  fashionable  entirely,  to 
be  of  the  least  possible  service  to  themselves,  or  to  any 
human  being,  and  too  highly  accomplished,  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  any  useful  branch  of  general  education.  \ 
They  are  both  marriageable,  and  both  anxious  to  be  ; 
well  settled,  but  both  think  too  highly  of  hirth  and  > 
fashion,  to  unite  themselves  to  any  but  one  moving  in 
the  same  rank  of  society  with  themselves.     It  is  hardly  ) 
necessary  to  say,  that  thej  are  heartless,  and  that  there  / 
is  not  the  most  remote  danger  of  either  marrying  beneath  { 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  23  \ 

them  for  love,  at  least  so  long  as  fortune  continues  to 
shower  her  favors  upon  them. 

The  reader  must  not  deem  that  I  have  been  too  severe 
in  exhibiting  this  family  in  their  true  aspects.  They 
are  seen  now  in  all  the  pomp  and  pride  of  wealth  and 
station,  and  accredited  birth;  and  they  will  be  see«i 
again,  moving  in  another,  and,  perhaps,  more  appro- 
priate sphere. 

Mr.  Simmons  was  the  original  owner  of  the  house  in 
which  T3t.  Elliott  had  resided,  he  having  purchased  it 
from  him ;  and  he  it  was  who  had  repurchased  it,  at  a 
price  barely  covering  his  own  mortgage,  congratulating 
himself  upon  having  made  so  excellent  a  bargain,  but 
never  for  a  moment  casting  a  thought  upon  the  widow 
and  her  orphan  daughters,  who  were  so  suddenly  re- 
duced from  comparative  comfort  to  a  bare  subsistence, 
through  his  instrumentality. 

During  the  lifetime  of  Mr.  Elliott,  he  had  always, 
when  they  met,  treated  him  with  respect ;    for  even  he 
could  not  deny  that  Mr.  Elliott  was  worthy  of  it ;   but 
he  knew  of  no  consideration  which  called  upon  him  to 
extend  the  same  civility  to  the  poor  widow  and  her  ( 
daughters,  who,  in  days  of  old,,  he  had  so  often  noticed  ( 
as  "beautiful  and  truly  interesting  girls."     Death  had  { 
severed  all  connection  with  them,  and  they  were  entirely 
forgotten  by  him,  except  when  he  chanced  to  pass  the 
house  they  had  formerly  owned,  but  which,  having  re- 
verted to  himself,  was  now  let  to  another  family,  pro- 
ducing him  a  handsome  investment  for  his  money. 


24  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


ch:2^pter  III, 


Mrs.  Elliott  and  her  daughters  were  comfortably 
situated,  in  small  but  neatly  furnished  apartments,  in 
one  of  the  streets  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  city.  They 
felt  the  necessity  of  practicing  the  strictest  economy,  and 
had  accordingly  disposed  of  all  their  furniture,  except 
such  as  was  necessary  for  the  rooms  they  had  taken. 
The  money  realized  from  this,  though  small  in  amount, 
added  to  the  trifle  left  over  from  the  sale  of  the  house,  was 
sufficient  to  keep  them  for  a  short  time,  until  some  definite 
plan  could  be  laid  out  for  the  future,  or  until  the  girls 
could  secure  employment  of  some  kind ;  for  they  were 
fully  aware  that  they  must  now  rely  entirely  upon  their 
own  industry. 

In  a  short  time,  the  violence  of  their  grief  for  the 
death  of  the  husband  and  father,  wore  away ;  and 
though  they  never  ceased  to  mourn  him,  they  never  ! 
permitted  their  sorrow  for  the  dead  so  far  to  overcome 
them,  as  to  neglect  the  ordinary  and  necessary  duties 
and  responsibilities  of  life. 

Mrs.  Elliott  was  the  first  to  urge  the  necessity  of  their 
seeking  work,  and  Laura  was  dispatched  to  the  whole- 
sale clothing  establishment  of  Mr.  Simmons,  in  Pearl- 


^.^^^ 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  25 

street,  to  procure  such  work  as  she  could  do;  and  pro- 
vision was  made  for  Clara,  by  having  a  small  tin  sign 
fastened  on  the  front  door,  signifying  that  "dress- 
making'^ was  performed  within. 

Laura  was  received  by  Mr.  Simmons  with  a  coldness 
and  haughtiness,  which  rendered  her  painfully  sensible 
of  the  difference  in  their  situations — for  he  had  ever, 
during  her  father's  lifetime,  treated  her  with  marked 
courtesy  and  kindness.  On  preferring  her  request, 
that  he  would  furnish  her  with  work,  he  replied,  very 
coldly : 

"  I  never  trouble  myself  with  that  part  of  the  business. 
My  foreman,  there,  will  give  it  out,  if  he  has  any.  Mr. 
Jones,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  individual  alluded  to  as 
his  foreman,  "  if  you  have  anything  ready,  you  may  give 
it  to  this  young  woman,"  and  he  immediately  moved 
away,  to  attend  upon  some  customers  who  entered  the 
store  at  that  moment. 

Laura  turned  to  the  foreman,  a  sleek,  fashionably- 
dressed  young  man,  highly  perfumed,  and  wearing  a 
formidable  pair  of  well-curled  whiskers,  which  seemed  !    M^^j^  ^ 
to  be  the  object  of  his  especial  care  and  attention. 

He  eyed  her  with  a  look,  which  she  wished  not  to  in- 
terpret into  impertinence,  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  \ 
asked,  in  very  mild  tones,  if  she  had  any  choice  of  work. 
^  None  whatever ;  anything  he  chose  to  give  out,  she 
would  make  up,"  was  the  reply,  coldly  but  civilly  given. 

Calling  a  boy,  who  was  in  another  part  of  the  store,  \ 
he  whispered  some  directions  to  him,  which  he  proceed-  , 
ed  to  obey,  and  meanwhile  he  essayed  to  open  a  conver-  \ 


D, 


26  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  \ 

sation  with  Laura.  She  was,  however,  obstinately 
silent,  replying  only  in  monosyllables;  so  he  set  her 
down  for  a  fool,  and  thrusting  a  bundle  at  her,  which  the 
boy  had  brought  to  him,  he  said,  as  he  handed  her  a  little 
book: 

"  Here  is  a  book  to  keep  your  accounts.  We  pay  off 
every  fortnight,  deducting  always  for  bad  work." 

Laura  took  the  huge  bundle  with  a  heavy  heart,  but 
she  gladly  made  her  escape  from  a  place  where  she  was 
so  rudely  tre~ated,  and  hurried  homeward,  determined, 
however,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vexations  and  imperti- 
nences to  which  she  had  been  subjected,  as  she  knew  it 
would  only  cause  pain  to  her  mother  and  sister. 

When  she  reached  home,  she  opened  the  bundle, 
which  she  found  to  contain  six  pair  of  coarse  satinet 
pantaloons.  She  had  not  the  most  remote  idea  how 
much  she  was  to  receive  for  making  them,  but  very 
foolishly  considered  that  the  remuneration  would  bear 
something  like  a  proportion  to  the  amount  of  work  to  be 
performed,  and  the  time  it  would  consume.  Convinced 
in  her  own  mind  of  this,  she  commenced  her  work  with 
a  cheerfulness  which  was  worthy  of  imitation  when  her 
situation  was  considered. 

As  for  Clara,  her  prospects  looked  really  encouraging. 
Her  sign  was  scarcely  dry,  before  she  was  waited  upon 
by  a  couple  of  dashy,  showy  girls,  who  wished  her  to 
make  up  some  dresses  for  them  at  their  own  residence ; 
and  they  left  the  street  and  number,  on  receiving  Clara's 
promise  to  be  punctual  in  her  attendance  on  the  follow- 
ing day.  ^ 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  27 

Having  partaken  of  an  early  breakfast,  she  started  off, 
with  a  light  and  happy  heart — as  light  and  happy,  at 
least,  as  her  recent  loss  would  permit — (for  she  felt  a 
pride  in  the  thought,  that  she  might  be  able  to  support 
herself) — and  rejoicing  in  the  good  fortune  which  had 
befallen  her,  in  thus  procuring  work,  at  the  first  onset  of 
her  career.  When  she  reached  the  house,  she  rang  the 
bell,  and  the  summons  was  answered  by  one  of  her  visit- 
ors of  the  previous  day,  who  conducted  her  into  a  back 
room,  where  her  companion  was  seated.  The  material 
of  which  the  dress  was  to  be  made  up  was  brought  out, 
and  after  Clara  had  been  called  on  to  admire  and  praise 
its  beauty,  the  work  was  commenced,  and  the  time  passed  { 
on  very  pleasantly  until  the  shades  of  night  drew  on,  when  j 
she  started  for  home,  promising  to  return  the  following  < 
day,  and  finish  the  dress  she  had  been  making,  and  an- 
other one,  also,  which  they  wished  to  have  made  up. 

When  the  family  were  seated  around  the  frugal  table 
set  for  their  evening  meal,  and  after  the  blessing  of  God 
had  been  invoked  upon  it,  the  conversation  naturally 
verged  toward  the  occurrences  of  the  day.  Laura 
glossed  over  her  share  of  the  proceedings,  as  well,  per- 
haps, to  hide  her  own  mortification  at  the  manner  of  her 
reception  by  Mr.  Simmons,  from  whom  she  had  expected, 
at  least,  civility,  as  to  avoid  narrating  that  which  she 
knew  would  cause  her  mother  and  sister  unhappiness. 

Clara,  however,  was  all  life  and  happiness.  "  Six 
shillings  to-day,  mother,  and  six  more  to-morrow,  is  a 
pretty  good  beginning.     Don't  you  think  it  is,  Laura  ?" 

Laura  assented,  and  sighed  as  she  wondered  if  she  had 


28  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

made  the  same  amount.  She  knew  she  had  earned  it, 
but  whether  she  would  receive  that  much,  was  something 
yet  to  be  ascertained. 

"  Six   shillings  a  day,  makes  thirty-six  shillings  a 
week — four  dollars  and  a  half — and  four  dollars  and  a  ' 
half  for  you,  Laura,  make  nine  dollars  a  week ;  and  if 
we  can  continue  at  that  rate,  dear  mother  here  need  not 
do  anything  but  tend  the  house." 

"  Ah,  Clara,  you  build  very  pretty  castles,  but  I  am 
afraid  you  do  not  make  very  good  calculations,"  said 
her  mother,  rather  seriously.  "  You  have  not  made  al- 
lowances for  the  days  you  must  be  without  work — nor 
for  sickness,  which  you  know  we  are  all  liable  to  suffer 
— nor  for  the  carelessness,  to  call  it  by  no  harsher  word, 
of  those  who  forget  to  pay  the  trifle  which  you  must  earn 
by  such  hard  labor." 

"  Ah !  but,  mother,"  said  Clara,  smiling,  "  I  don't  mean 
to  sew  for  any  but  those  who  pay  promptly.  I  should 
like  to  get  Miss  Simmons'  dresses  to  make.  It  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  get  such  custom  as  that;  it 
would  make  me  known,  and  then  I  should  never  want 
work." 

"  But,  my  daughter,  do  you  look  forward  ever  to 
a  life  of  toil  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Elliott,  with  earnest- 
ness. 

"  Mother,"  said  Clara,  seriously,  "  what  else  do  I  dare 
look  for  ?  We  are  poor,  and  must  work ;  and  though,  I 
confess,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  look  forward  to  a  life  spent 
in  toil,  day  after  day,  with  nothing  to  cheer  or  cOmfort 
one,  it  is  better  to  meet  even  that  with  cheerfulness,  and 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  29 

make  the  most  of  it,  than  to  sigh  and  pine  over  our  mis- 
fortunes ;  for  I  am  sure,  crying  or  pining  won't  better 
our  situation." 

"  That  is  very  true,  my  dear,  and  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  resigned  to  your  fate — for  fate,  I  fear,  I  must  now 
call  it,  as  I  certainly  look  for  no  change  for  the  better, 
unless,  indeed,  some  worthy  man  should  marry  one  of 
my  girls,  and  perhaps,  for  the  daughter's  sake,  he  would 
give  the  mother  a  shelter." 

"  Oh,  mother,  dear  mother,"  exclaimed  both  of  her 
daughters  at  once,  "  we  will  never  leave  nor  forsake 
you.  You  will  always  have  the  first  place  in  our 
hearts,  and  we  hope  always  to  be  worthy  of  the  same  in 
your  own." 

"  Who  on  earth,"  said  Laura,  gaily,  ^^  would  marry  a 
poor  girl  now-a-days  ?  Marry,  indeed  !  I  hope,  mother, 
you  will  live  to  see  us  both  married  ;  you  will  reach  a 
ripe  old  age,  I  promise  you,"  and  she  broke  into  a 
merry  laugh. 

"Come,  come,  Laura,"  said  Clara,  "there's  many  a 
j  true  word  spoken  in  jest,  so  let  us  drop  marriage,  and 
talk  of  something  more  interesting,  certainly  more  im- 
portant. I  had  made  out  just  now  a  clear  income  of 
nearly  five  hundred  dollars,  when  you  interrupted  me. 
I  am  sure  we  can  live  in  comfort  on  that." 

"  Yes ;  but,  Clara,  you  are  counting  my  work  the 
same  as  your  own.  I  have  no  idea  what  I  am  to  receive 
for  these  pantaloons,"  said  Laura. 

"  Receive  !  why  a  dollar  a  pair,  at  least.  They  are 
coarse  common  stuff,  and  I  don't  s-uppose  they  are  worth 


hO  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

much  more  than  a  dollar  a  pair  for  making,  and  you 
know  we  cannot  expect  to  get  the  full  value  for  them. 
I  have  no  doubt  you  will  get  a  dollar  a  pair,  and  you  can 
make,  let  me  see,  how  many  pairs  a  week  V^ 

"  I  don't  know ;  it  is  rather  heavy  work,  and  I  can  tell 
better  when  these  are  done ;  and  when  I  carry  them 
home,  we  can  make  our  calculations  with  more  accu-  ( 
racy,  for  I  shall  then  know  how  much  I  shall  be  paid,  j 
You  know  Mr.  Simmons  only  pays  every  fortnight,  at 
least  so  the  foreman  told  me." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Clara, "  as  soon  as  I  have  finished 
the  dresses  for  these  ladies,  I  mean  to  try  and  let  the 
Misses  Simmons  know  that  I    take    in  dress-making.  ( 
Who  knows  but  they  may  give  me  work,  for  father's  j 
sake,  and  if  I  can  once  get  the  custom  of  their  friends, 
I  may  consider  myself  made." 

Laura  said  nothing,  but  she  thought  to  herself,  that 
*if  the  daughters  resembled  the  father,  Clara's  chances 
of  sympathy  or  work,  for  the  sake  of  their  dear  father, 
were  very  slender.     She  did  not  wish  to  discourage  or  ( 
dishearten  her,  however,  so  she  kept  her  thoughts  to  | 
herself,  and  merely  nodded  assent.  { 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  Clara  repaired  to  the  ! 
house  where  she  had  passed  the  previous  day,  and  she  ( 
sewed  so  steadily  and  rapidly,  that  by  night  she  had  ( 
completed  all  the  work  they  had  for  her,  and  had  earned  \ 
her  twelve  shillings.  \ 

As  she  was  putting  on  her  hat  and  shawl  to  return  ) 
home,  one  of  the  girls  said  to  her  :  J 

"  You  need  not  wait  for  the  money  now  ;  father  will  J 


THE    ELLIOTT    FABIILY.  31 

not  be  home  until  late,  and  we  will  send  it  to  you  in  the 
morning/' 

Clara  would  much  have  preferred  to  receive  the 
money  at  once,  as  she  had  made  great  calculations  on 
being  able  to  exhibit  her  first  earnings  to  her  mother 
and  sister ;  but  seeing  no  way  to  avoid  the  delay,  she 
thanked  them,  and  left  for  home. 

It  was  past  her  usual  hour,  and  the  tea-table  had 
been  kept  for  her ;  for  they  could  not  think  of  sitting  ' 
down    without  her.      As  she  entered  the  room,   her  i 
mother  saw,  from  the  expression  of  her  countenance, 
that  something  was  wrong,  and  could  not  forbear  ask- 
ing her  what  had  occurred. 

*'  Why,  mother,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  Clara, 
"  I  was  grievously  disappointed  this  evening,  in  not  re- 
ceiving my  mon^y.  I  had  anticipated  so  much  plea- 
sure in  presenting  to  you  my  first  earnings,  that  the 
disappointment  afiected  me  more  seriously  than  so 
trifling  an  occurrence  ought  to  have  done." 

"  Ah !  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Elliott,  shaking  her  ' 
head  sadly,  ^^  this,  I  fear,  is  but  the  first  of  our  trials. 
I  have  no   doubt  you  will  eventually  receive   your  ^ 
money,  but  those  who  employ  are  too  apt,  in  the  re-  ' 
membrance  of  their  own  comforts,  to  forget  the  neces- 
sities of  those  who  are  compelled  to  toil  for  them." 
"  Well,  well,  Clara,"  said  Laura,  encouragingly, 
)  "  don't  be  disheartened.     A  bad  beginning,  you  know, 
(  sometimes  makes  a  very  good  end ;  and  if  you  should 
!  get  work  from  the  Misses  Simmons,  you  will,  at  least, 
I  be  sure  of  your  pay  when  it  is  done." 


32  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILr. 

"  Come,  come,  girls,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Elliott,  anxious 
;  to  dispel  the  clouds  cast  over  them,  "  don't  think  of 
this ;  it  is  too  trifling  an  occurrence  to  affect  us  so 
much.  Let  us  confide  in  God,  and  all  will  yet  be  well. 
Laura  here  has  been  at  work,  steadily,  since  you  left 
the  house,  and  has  only  finished  one  pair  of  the  panta- 
loons. I  fear  she  will  have  to  sew  much  faster,  if  she 
hopes  to  earn  her  own  living,  or  Mr.  Simmons  will 
have  to  pay  a  larger  price  than  we  anticipate.'' 

A  few  words  more  of  encouragement  from  the  af- 
fectionate mother,  and  the  disappointments  of  the  day 
were  forgotten. 

After  tea,  Laura  resumed  her  work,  while  Clara 
seated  herself,  and  penned  a  very  polite  note  to  the 
Misses  Simmons,  informing  them  that  she  had  com- 
menced dress-making,  and    would  thankfully  receive 
any  work  they  might  have  for  her,  either  at  her  house  ; 
or  their  own.     This  she  took  herself,  and  delivered  it  | 
to  the  servant  at  the  door,  returning  home  full  of  the 
most  pleasing  anticipations — so  full,  indeed,  that  she 
actually  forgot  for   the  moment  the  twelve  shillings 
which  she  had  earned  with  such  hard  labor,  and  which  [ 
she  had  not  yet  received. 

Laura  continued  at  her  work  until  all  the  family  had 
retired  to  rest,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  her 
mother  and  sister ;  for  she  was  determined  to  earn  her 
share  of  the  week's  income,  and  she  felt  the  necessity  \ 
of  completing,  if  possible,  the  whole  six  pair  of  panta-  \ 
loons  during  the  week,  although  it  was  now  Wednesday  \ 
evening.     To  accomplish  this,  she  must  work  early  and  ] 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


33 


late,  commencing  her  day's  toil  at  early  dawn,  and 
closing  only  when  nature,  almost  exhausted,  demanded 
repose  in  sleep. 


34  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


CHAPTER   IV, 


The  party  given  by  Mrs.  Simmons  was  all  that  she 
anticipated.  Her  rooms  were  crowded  almost  to  suffo-  j 
cation,  and  at  every  step  she  was  stopped  by  some  kind 
friend,  who  insisted  upon  assuring  her  how  very  agree- 
able they  found  everything,  and  how  magnificent  were 
all  the  arrangements. 

Misses  Euphemia  and  Maria  were,  of  course,  the 
mELgnets   of  the    evening,    and    their    superabundant  | 
vanity  was  flattered  to  a  surfeit,  by  the  immoderate 
amount  of  attention  paid  to  them,  and  the  thousand  flat- 
tering speeches  poured  into  their  willing  ears. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  some  one  of  the  guests, 
1|  during  a  casual  conversation,  mentioned  that  an  eflbrt 
was  then  in  progress,  on  the  part  of  some  philanthro- 
pists, for  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  poor. 
This  was  a  subject  upon  which  Mr.  Simmons  was  pe- 
culiarly at  home,  as  he  was  well  known  for  the  extent 
of  his  donations  to  very  many  charitable  institutions,  the 
due  acknowledgment  of  which  always  appeared  month- 
ly in  one  of  the  city  papers,  most  widely  circulated. 

"  There  is,"  said  Mr.  Simmons,  "  entirely  too  much 
said  about  the  poor,  and  an  improper  sympathy  is  ex- 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  35 


cited  in  behalf  of  a  very  large  class,  who  not  only  do 
not  thank  us  for  it,  but  who  do  not  deserve  the  half  of 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  gentleman  who  started  the  con- 
versation, "  I  have  seen  a  vast  deal  of  suffering  among 
those  who  are  least  thought  of  among  our  citizens,  I  mean 
the  seamstresses .  Now,  I  have  seen  a  mother  and  daugh- 
ter working  at  tailors'  work  from  daylight  until  mid- 
night, to  earn  three  or  four  shillings  a  day,  and  that 
was  to  feed  five  mouths,  and  clothe  Rye  human  bodies, 
besides  paying  for  house-rent  and  fire,  and  other  neces- 
saries." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Simmons,  elevating  himself  with 
conscious  pride,  and  speaking  in  tones  louder  than  com- 
mon, "  that  may  be  the  case  with  some  establishments, 
but  in  mine  I  always  pay  such  prices  as  insures  to 
honest  industry  a  fair  reward,"  and  he  looked  around 
the  room,  as  if  to  say,  who  dared  to  doubt  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  the  response,  "  for  there 
are  some  who  scruple  not  to  oppress  and  beat  down  the 
poor  girls  who  are  compelled  to  work  for  them,  until 
they  are  only  preserved  from  actual  starvation  by  ef- 
forts which  neither  you  nor  I  could  think  we  could 
make,  under  any  possible  circumstances." 

As  Mr.  Simmons  had  made  this  assertion  before  a 
large  number  of  people,  it  is  but  fair  to  infer  that  he 
thought  it  true,  and  I  have  only  narrated  this  brief  con- 
versation— for  much  more  of  a  similar  nature  occur- 
red— to  show  how  erroneous  are  the  ideas  entertained 
on  the  part  of  some  of  the  condition  of  this  class  of  our 


36  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


I     \  population.     Let  us  see  how  the  facts  stand  ;  and  for  | 
/     J  that  purpose  let  us  return  to  Laura  Elliott. 

The  week  has  closed,  and  a  weary  week  it  has  been 
to  her — a  week  of  ceaseless,  arduous  toil ;  for  she  has 
endeavored,  if  possible,  to  work  so  as  to  earn  as  much 
as  her  sister.  By  devoting  to  her  work  many  of  the 
hours  which  exhausted  nature  demanded  for  repose, 
she  has  managed  to  finish  in  five  days  four  pair  of  the 
pantaloons,  out  of  the  six  which  had  been  given  out. 

Tying  them  up  in  a  bundle,  and  taking  her  shop- 
book  with  her,  she  proceeded,  on  Saturday,  just  before 
dusk,  to  Mr.  Simmons'  warehouse,  where  she  met  a 
great  number  of  females,  assembled  for  the  same  pur- 
pose as  herself,  viz.,  to  return  their  work.     The  sight 
of  so  many  pale  and  anxious  countenances  affected  her 
deeply,  and  she  wondered  within  herself  what  could 
cause  such  a  general  appearance  of  melanpholy  upon 
the  countenances  ojp  all,  young  and  old,  alike.     She 
\  saw  there,  the  mother  of  a  large  family,  thin,  pale,  and 
apparently  ill  able  to  sustain  the  large  bundle  she  was 
holding,  patiently  awaiting  her  turn  to  have  the  fore- 
'  man  set  down  the  amount  due  to  her  in  the  shop-book. 
j  She  saw  the  young  girl,  too,  who  had  scarce  reached 
*  the  morn  of  youth,  and  whose  days  ought  to  have  been 
j  passed  in  cheerful  serenity,  careworn,  sad,  and  almost 
'  "^rexhausted.      In  vain  she  looked  around  for  one^  happy, 
smiling  face :  not  one  was  there  to  greet  her  eye,  and 
she  turned  away  from  the  spirit-broken  group  with  a 
sinking  heart. 

One  by  one  they  wero  attended  to,  and  at  length  her  ; 


{ 


^* 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  37 

turn  came.  Trembling  with  anxiety,  to  learn  how 
much  she  had  earned,  she  placed  her  bundle  on  the 
counter,  and  handed  the  book  to  the  scented  fop  who 
stood  behind  it,  and  she  watched  him  with  fearful 
eagerness,  as  he  examined  her  work.  It  appeared  to 
\  satisfy  him,  for,  laying  it  aside,  he  took  the  pen,  which 
was  placed  behind  his  ear,  half-buried  in  his  flowing, 
well-oiled  locks,  and  making  an  entry  in  her  book, 
handed  it  to  her,  without  saying  a  word,  and  extending 
his  hand  for  the  next  one  in  turn. 

Laura  did  not  look  at  the  entry  which  had  been  made 
in  the  book,  in  the  store,  but  hurried  home,  and  before 
taking  off  any  of  her  things,  she  went  to  the  light,  and 
opening  the  book  with  trembling  eagerness,  read  it.  \ 
The  entry  stood  thus : 

Four  pairs  coarse  pant's, $1,25      ; 

The  book  fell  from  her  hands,  and  she  burst  into  an  \ 
agony  of  tears.     Five  days  and  nights  of  ceaseless  toil  ' 
for  the  miserable  pittance  of  ten  shillings  !     She  could  \ 
not,  she  would  not  believe  it,  and  when  she  had  some- 
what recovered  from  the  feelings  into  which  the  read- 
ing of  the  entry  had  at  first  thrown  her,  she  took  up  the 
book  again,  with  the  thought  it  might  possibly  mean 
that  it  was  ten  shillings  per  pair.      That  idea  she  soon 
abandoned,  however,  as  preposterous,  and  another  burst 
of  tears  afforded  some  relief  to  her  overcharged  heart. 

"  Ten  shillings  for  five  days  and  nights  of  such 
work  as  I  have  done!"  she  inwardly  exclaimed.   I^Oh 
man,^  thou  ^guardian  and  jprotectoj;^  q£_ouj^  sex^^^h^^ 
faithfully  do  ye  fulfil  your  trust !"    \  \ 


38  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  j 

The  entrance  of  her  mother  and  sister  at  that  moment,  ) 
interrupted  her  train  of  thought,  and  with  a  bitter  smile, 
she  handed  to  them  the  book. 

"  Good  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Elliott;  "  why  we 
shall  starve  at  that  rate." 

"  Well,  mother/'  said  Laura,  despondingly,  "  and 
who  is  there  to  care  if  we  do  ?  We  are  now  only  poor 
seamstresses,  and  so  long  as  we  can  work — so  long  as 
we  have  health  and  strength  to  use  a  needle,  I  dare  say 
we  can  get  employment  sufficient  to  buy  dry  bread,  and 
that  is  good  enough  for  us." 

Clara's  heart  was  too  full  for  words.  Deeply  did 
she  sympathize  with  her  sister,  for  she  had  herself  that 
day  received  a  severe  check  to  her  happy  anticipations. 
After  going  day  after  day  for  the  twelve  shillings  she 
had  earned,  she  was  at  last  told,  and  in  no  very  gentle 
terms,  that  her  dunning  was  impertinent,  and  if  it  was 
repeated,  she  might  look  for  her  money  where  she  could 
[  !  find  it ;  it  would  be  sent  to  her  when  it  was  convenient 
for  them  to  pay  it,  and  she  need  give  herself  no  further 
trouble. 

"  Now,"  said  Laura,  with  bitterness,  after  Clara  had 
related  her  disappointment,  "  if  it  had  been  a  man  who 
had  treated  you  in  that  manner,  I  would  not  have  wonder- 
ed ;  but  I  must  confess  I  did  expect  more  sympathy  from 
our  own  sex.  However,  we  are  poor,  and  must  bear  it, 
and  so  make  the  best  of  it ;  and  now,  what  shall  we  do  ?  I 
cannot,  at  this  rate,  make,  at  the  most,  more  than  fifteen 
shillings  a  week,  and  to  do  that,  I  must  work  day  and 
night,  and  my  health  would  soon  break  under  it.     Let 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY  39 

me  see,"  she  added,  "  that,  at  the  rate  I  have  worked —  ! 
fourteen  hours  each  day — is  two  and  a  quarter  cents  an 
hour  V 

"You  must  finfsh,  Laura,"  said  her  mother,  "the 
remaining  two  pairs  of  pantaloons,  and  when  you  take 
them  back,  ask  the  foreman  for  lighter  work.  It  is 
very  evident,  your  health  cannot  long  stand  such  toil. 
Even  if  you  make  no  more  money  by  the  change  than 
you  can  now,  the  labor  may  not  be  so  severe  ,*  and 
you,  Clara,  I  fear  your  dress-making  does  not  promise  ^ 
very  auspicious  results.  However,  it  will  not  do  to  be  ' 
discouraged  so  soon.  You  may  fall  in  with  honest  peo- 
ple, who  will  not  feel  insulted  if  a  poor  girl  should  ask 
for  her  hard-earned  money." 

"  Give  up  [  no  indeed,"  said  Clara,  rallying,  and  es- 
saying to  be  gay.  "  I  hope  yet  to  see  my  name  in 
!  very  large  letters  on  some  large  house  in  Broadway — 
^  Madame  Elliotte,  from  Paris.'  You  know  it  would  not 
do  to  be  Miss  Elliott,  so  I  put  Madame,  and  then  I  con- 
vert myself  into  a  French  woman,  by  the  simple  addi- 
tion of  the  letter  e.     Nothing  is  easier." 

"  Yes,  very  easy  to  fancy,  my  dear ;  and  although  \ 
it  is  practiced  every  day,  I  feel  that  you  will  never 
reach  that  point.     However,  I  wish  you  success,  and  a  , 
full  realization  of  your  anticipations." 

At  this  moment  the  family  were  startled  by  a  rap  at 
the  door,  which,  on  being  opened,  admitted  a  servant 
of  Mr.  Simmons,  who  brought  a  message  for  Miss  El- 
liott to  come  to  the  house  on  Monday  morning,  to  assist 


40  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY  ' 

a  dress-maker  for  the  week,  as  they  were  going  to  have 
some  dresses  made  up  for  a  summer's  jaunt. 

Clara  could  scarcely  restrain  her  joy  as  the  servant 
delivered  his  message,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of 
sight  and  hearing,  she  danced  about  the  room,  in  the 
exuberance  of  her  joy. 

"  There,  mother,  my  fortune,  and  yours,  too,  is  made. 
I  have  felt  all  along,  if  I  could  only  get  work  from  the 
Misses  Simmons,  it  would  make  me  known  in  such  a 
set,  that  I  must  succeed.  Oh,  how  truly  thankful  I 
am.  Dear  Laura,  why  don't  you  give  up  such  kind 
of  work,  and  learn  dress-making  ?  I  will  teach  you ; 
you  can  make  a  great  deal  more,  and  the  work  is  not 
so  hard." 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  said  Laura,  sadly.  "  My  taste 
is  not  so  good  as  yours,  and  I  fear  I  never  could  be  a 
good  dress-maker.  I  will  try  and  procure  lighter 
work,  and  I  may  do  better  at  that." 

Clara  was  thrown  into  such  a  joyous  state  by  the 
message  from  the  Misses  Simmons,  that  she  forgot  her 
twelve  shillings,  and  all  the  hard  feelings  the  disap- 
pointment had  occasioned ;  and  she  strove  so  hard  to  in- 
spire her  mother  and  sister  with  cheerfulness,  that  she 
succeeded  at  length,  and  the  remainder  of  the  evening 
was  passed  in  joyful  anticipations  of  the  future. 

The  next  day,  the  sabbath,  as  was  their  invariable 
custom,  they  went  to  the  house  of  God,  and  unlike  very 
many  females,  they  went  in  season.     They  had  no  new 
hats  or  dresses  to  exhibit,*  and  even  had  they  been  so  | 
fortunate  as  to  possess  such  cherished  and  attractive  | 


j  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY,  41   ^ 

)  articles,  it  is  due  to  them  to  say,  they  never  would  have        ] 
chosen  such  a  place  for  their  exhibition.     They  were 
in  their  places  early,  and  not  a  little  were  they  shocked, 

)  to  find  that  a  very  great  portion  of  the .  female  part  of 
the  congregration — those  who  were  seated  at  the  great- 

;  est  distance  from  the  preacher,  and  who,  in  conse- 
quence, had  the  greatest  distance  to  walk  in  the  face 

}  of  those  already  assembled — did  not  reach  the  sacred 

1  temple  until  the  services  were  well  commenced.    They 

I  very  charitably  inferred  that  some  domestic  calamity 
had  detained  them  so  late,  and  never  in  their  hearts  for 

j  a  moment  attributed  it  to  the  love  of  display;j3t^the 
sacrifice  even  of  propriety. 

The  services  of  the  day  were  listened  to  by  Mrs. 
Elliott  and  her  daughters  with  attention,  and  the  ad- 
monitions of  the  preacher  received  with  respect,  while 
in  the  fervor  and  devotion  with  which  they  joined  in 
the  prayers,  they  derived  a  cheerfulness  of  spirit,  and 
serenity  of  mind,  which  they  knew  and  felt  it  was  vain 
to  look  for  elsewhere  than  from  religion. 

The  day  was  passed  by  them  as  Christians  should 
pass  it,  and  at  night  they  retired  to  their  humble 
couches,  with  hearts  at  peace  with  God  and  man,  and 
with  their  hope,  trust  and  confidence  more  firmly  fixed 
on,  and  more  trustfully  placed  in,  the  Great  Disposer  | 
of  events. 


.® 


42  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Early  on  Monday  morning,  Clara  proceeded  to  the 
splendid  mansion  of  Mr.  Simmons,  and  was  at  once  set 
at  work  by  a  fashionable  dress-maker,  whom  she  found 
already  there,  and  who  had  succeeded  in  gaining  that 
stand,  and  the  custom  of  a  certain  fashionable  set,  which  ' 
was  the  present  height  of  Clara's  ambition.  It  is  true, 
the  Misses  Simmons  paid  no  more  attention  to  her,  than  if 
^^  j  she  had  not  been  in  the  room,  except  to  give,  occasion- 

ally, in  very  positive  tones,  directions  respecting  the 
work,  and  to  interrupt  her  very  frequently,  by  requir- 
ing her  to  show  them  the  particular  mode  of  doing  cer- 
tain things. 

Their  conversation  was  particularly  directed  to  the 
dress-maker,  who  seemed  to  know  a  little  of  everything, 
and  everybody's  business;  and  Clara  heard  there  the 
history  of  several  families,  of  whom  she  had  before 
known,  painted  in  colors  by  no  means  flattering,  if  half 
told  of  them  was  true  ;  and  she  was  innocent  enough  to  ; 
suppose  that  they  would  not  have  ventured  to  use  such 
language  in  reference  to  them,  unless  the  remarks  were 
true. 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  43  I 

Poor  Laura,  who  was  dreadfully  disheartened,  re- 
sumed her  cheerless  work,  endeavoring  to  console  her- 
self with  the  reflection,  that  the  next  work  she  would 
procure  should  be  more  easy,  and  she  trusted,  more  { 
profitable.     By  working  with  great  assiduity,  she  com-  j 
pleted  the  remaining  two  pairs  of  pantaloons  so  as  to  \ 
carry  them  to  the  store  on  Tuesday,  toward  the  close  ; 
of  the  day  ;  and  after  they  had  been  examined,  and  the  \ 
entry  made  in  the  book,  she  ventured  to  ask,  if  he  could 
not  give  her  work  which  was  not  so  heavy,  as  she  found 
her  health  and  strength  unequal  to  her  present  task. 

The  foreman  stared  at  her  for  an  instant,  with  much 
the  same  look  as  Bumble,  the  beadle,  gave  to  Oliver  j  / 
Twist,  when  he  dared  to  ask  for  more,  and  was  on  the 
point  of  making  some  impudent  reply,  when  he  checked 
himself,  and  with  a  smile,  which  he  intended  to  be  fas- 
cinating, said : 

"  Why,  yes,  I  will  try.     Can  you  make  vests?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,"  replied  Laura,  with  something  of 
eagerness  in  her  manner,  for  she  had  made  them  for 
her  father  in  bygone  years — "  Oh  yes,  sir ;  and  T  should 
prefer  them  much  to  such  heavy  work  as  those  panta- 
loons." 

"  Well,  I  will  give  you  half-a-dozen  vests.  We  pay 
two  shillings  and  sixpence  for  them — the  same  as  the 
pantaloons." 

Again  Laura's  heart  sank  within  her.     However,  ' 
she  had  asked  for  the  vests,  and  must  take  them ;   so 
she  received  in  silence  the  bundle  which  he  handed 
her,  saying,  at  the  same  time  : 


44  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

"  We  are  very  much  hurried  now,  and  I  wish  you  to 
finish  them  as  speedily  as  possible." 

Laura  promised  to  do  her  best,  and  started  home-  ; 
ward,  with  depressed  spirits,  for  she  feared  that,  with  all  ) 
her  industry,  she  could  not  earn  more  than  she  would  \ 
have  done  by  continuing  upon  the  coarse  pantaloons,  ( 
nor  at  the  expense  of  less  time  or  labor,  although  the 
work  would  not  be  so  heavy,  nor  would  it  tax  her  health 
and  strength  so  much  as  sewing  on  the  pantaloons. 

On  her  way  home  she  met  a  young  girl,  whose  face  ) 
was  familiar  to  her,  carrying  a  bundle  also,  and  she 
accosted  her,  asking  if  they  had  not  met  before. 

The  girl  replied  that  her  name  was  Edwards,  and 
reminded  Laura  that  she  had  lived  a  near  neighbor  to 
her  before  the  death  of  Mr.  Elliott. 

Laura  remembered  her  then,  as  a  girl  who  was  employ- 
ed sewing  on  caps,  and  she  had  often  felt  her  pity  excited 
when  she  passed  the  house  where  she  resided,  as  she  ob- 
served her  always  seated  near  the  window  at  work. 

Misery  loves  company,  and  Laura,  hoping  to  derive  J 
some  information  from  her  which  might  prove  of  ser-  ' 
vice  to  herself,  invited  her  to  call  upon  them  some  j 
evening,  giving  her  at  the  same  time  her  own    ad- 
dress. ;' 

"I  will  come,"  replied  Miss  Edwards,  "if  you  will  ) 
let  me  bring  my  work  with  me,  for  I  cannot  waste  an  j 
hour  for  myself  or  my  friends."  J 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Laura,  and  a  tear  started  to  J 
her  eyes,  as  she  reflected  upon  the  similarity  of  their  ; 
situations  ;  for  she  too  dared  not  to  waste  an  hour  for  ) 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


45 


anything,  no  matter  how  pleasant  or  attractive  it  might 
prove. 

When  she  reached  her  home,  Laura  threw  her  bun- 
dle on  the  bed,  and  gave  way  to  a  hearty  burst  of  tears, 
which  was  perhaps  excusable  when  it  is  considered  that 
her  health  already  began  to  decline  under  the  effects  of 
her  dreadful  overtasking,  and  that  she  was  more  than 
usually  excitable  and  nervous. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Laura  V  inquired  her  mother, 
who  having  been  out  in  search  of  work,  entered  the  rooni 
at  that  moment,  and  found  Laura  in  tears.  "You  must 
not  give  way  to  these  fits  of  despondency  ;  it  is  unwor- 
thy of  you  as  a  Christian." 

"  I  know  it,  mother,"  sobbed  Laura,  "  but  I  cannot 
look  at  the  dreary  prospect  before  me  with  a  smile.  I  see 
nothing  but  a  life  of  gloomy  wretchedness — days..and 
nightsl5rceasetess7ill-requited  toil,  which  must  affect  my 
health  ;  and  for  what  ? — why,  perhaps,  for  two  or  three 
shillings  each  day — ^just  enough  to  keep  starvation  from 
the  door.  Dear  mother,  is  it  not  enough  to  make  me  sad  ?" 

"  True,  my  dear  child  ;  but  you  know  that  cheerful- 
ness takes  away  half  the  tedium  of  labor.  Remember 
the  Bible  teaches  us  that  whatever  we  have  to  do,  we 
should  perform  with  zeal  and  diligence,  and  also  with 
a  cheerful  disposition.  It  is  wrong  to  give  way  to  these 
gloomy  forebodings :  ^  Sufficient  unto  the  day,  is  the  evil 
thereof.' " 

"  Well,  mother,  I  will  try  and  be  more  cheerful,  if  it 
is  only  for  your  sake,"  and  Laura  wiped  her  eyes,  until 
they  were  red  and  swollen.  I 


46 


'THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


\\\ 


"  See  here,  Laura,"  said  her  mother^  untying  her 
bundle  ;  "  look  at  the  work  I  have  procured,  and  see 
if  I  too  have  no  cause  to  grieve.  See,  here  are  two 
dozen  shirts,  coarse  it  is  true,  but  what  do  you  suppose 
I  am  to  receive  for  making  them  ?" 

Laura  looked  at  the  shirts,  and  made  a  calculation  in 
her  mind  how  long  it  would  take  to  make  one.  After  a 
brief  pause,  she  replied  : 

"  I  suppose  about  three  shillings — or  no,  say  two  and 
sixpence." 

Mrs.  Elliott  smiled,  but  it  was  a^mile  full  of  bitter- 
ness, as  she  replied: 

"  Ten  cents  f  Laura." 

"  Good  Heaven !  mother,  you  cannot  be  in  earnest  ? 
Ten  cents  for  making  a  shirt !  Oh,  surely,  you  are 
jesting?" 

"  Daughter,  I  wisn  it  were  so.  Ten  cents  each  I  am 
to  receive  for  making  these  shirts;  and  judge  now  if  you 
have  much  greater  cause  to  complain  than  myself,  and 
yet  you  see  I  do  not  weep,  or  take  on,  as  you  did  just 
now." 

"  Forgive  me,  mother,  I  will  never  murmur  again ; 
but  oh !  what  hearts  must  they  have  to  expeclsuoh  work 
from  poor  weak  females  for  such  a  miserable  sum.  Can 
they  have  hearts  or  feelings  ?" 

"  Dear  Laura,  I  went  to  a  dozen  places  before  I  could 
get  any  at  all,  and  nearly  every  one  I  asked,  paid  only 
eight  cents.  The  man  who  let  me  have  these,  prides 
himself  upon  paying  the  highest  prices,  and  delights  to 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  47  \ 

hear  it  said  that  the  females  in  his  employ  cannot  com- 
plain of  him  on  that  score/^ 

"  And  how  many  can  you  make  in  a  day  V^  asked 
Laura. 

"  I  have  never  made  this  kind  of  shirts,  but  as  they 

are  coarse,  I  suppose  I  can  make  two  at  first,  and  when 

I  am  more  accustomed  to  them,  perhaps  three  a  day." 

\      "  Thirty  cents  a  day  !"  sighed  Laura  ;  "  and  suppose 

I  any  of  us  is  taken  sick — and  I  am  sure  we  cannot  stand 

j  this  work  long,  and  keep  our  health — what  can  we  do  ?" 

J      ^*  Again,  Laura,  I  must  remind  you  that  *  sufficient 

I  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof,"^  was  the  reply  of  the 

(  Christian  mother.      "  You  think  we  are  badly  off,  my 

J  dear ;  but  when  the  time  comes,  and  it  may  to  us,  as  well 

j  as  others,  that  we  can  obtain  no  work  at  all,  you  will 

grieve  to  think  that  you  have  murmured  or  complained 

^  because  of  our  present  situation.     You  remember  Mrs. 

Hammond — do  you  not,  my  dear  ?     Her  husband  died, 

(  and  left  her  with  three  little  children,  perfectly  desti- 

i  tute." 

I       "  Yes,  I  remember  her  perfectly  well,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  returning  home  with  my  bundle,  I  ' 
j  met  her,  but  she  looked  so  pale  and  haggard,  and  was 
j  so  altered,  I  never  should  have  recognized  her.  She 
/  remembered  me,  however,  and  spoke  to  me.  She  told 
'  me  she  had  been  out  of  all  work  for  nearly  three  months ! 
i  Occasionally  she  had  managed  to  get  some  shirts  to  make, 
)  at  five  cents  each  !" 

J      ^'  Oh,  mother,  five  cents  !"  interrupted  Laura,  depre-  ! 
j  catingly.  ! 


48  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

Yes,  my  child,  five  cents,  and  she  was  glad  to  get  ( 
them  at  that,  to  keep  actual  starvation  away  from  her-  I 
self  and  her  little  ones,  i  It  seems  that  many  of  those  j 
who  manufacture,  or  rather  sell  shirts,  and  the  like,  ( 
have  a  great  stock  made  up  during  the  winter  season  \ 
by  girls  in  the  country,  farmers'  daughters,  who  having 
no  particular  duties  to  perform  at  that  season,  willingly 
make  up  these  coarse  shirts  for  four  and  five  cents  a 
\  piece  ;  and  thus  those  who  are  compelled  to  make  them 
j  for  a  living,  must  work  as  cheaply,  or  get  no  work  at 
\  all.  ■  She  told  me  that  for  the  past  week,  she  had  lived 
on  potatoes  alone,  which  she  ha^  procured  from  the 
Aims-House,  cooking  them  with  chips,  which  she  was 
I  allowed  to  pick  up  around  the  carpenters'  shops  and 
ship-yards.     One  of  her  children  has  been  sick  for  some 
weeks,  and  is  actually  pining  away  for  want  of  the  com- 
mon necessaries  of  life. 

"  She  has  a  little  room  at  the  farthest  extremity  of  a  dark 
alley,  and  the  only  furniture  she  owns  in  the  world,  is 
an  old  kettle,  in  which  she  cooks  her  potatoes.  Every- 
thing else,  even  to  her  clothing,  she  has  been  obliged  to 
part  with,  to  keep  starvation  away  yet  a  little  longer;  ' 
and  her  bed  for  herself  and  children  is  made  of  a  few  > 
old  garments,  which  she  could  not  sell ;  her  pillow,  a 
stick  of  wood  !  And  this  woman  has  seen  better  days, 
as  well  as  ourselves.  Oh,  my  daughter,  you  must  not 
give  way  so  readily  to  these  fits  of  despondency." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  will  not  complain  any  more  ;  but 
it  is  very  plain,  that  if  we  intend  to  live  by  our  needles, 
we  must  think  of  nothing  else.     Thank  Heaven,  there 


w 


(\ 

\ 


i  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  49 

'  i§_on§„d9^-J9£j!§st,  and  live  or  die,"  added  Laura,  with 
'  energy,  *^  I  will  never  desecrate  that.  Butiti&a-sa^^ing 
'  to  contemplate  :  Here  we  must  remain— evei<  confined 
— ever  at  work — ^denied  all  social  intercourse — iforbid- 
den  even  the  necessary  enjoyment  and  relaxation  of  ex- 
ercise— shut  out  from  the  world,  with  nothing  to  look  for 
in  the  future  but  a  life  of  dreary  toil,  or  a  death  in  the 
Aims-House.  I  wonder,"  she  added,  suddenly,  as  if  a 
new  thought  had  struck  her,  "if  the  employers  know  how 
hard  we  do  work  ?  I  almost  feel  that  if  they  did,  they 
would  do  something  for  us.  It  seems  to  me  they  would  S  \ 
pay  something  like  a  fair  compensation,  if  they  could  |i  / 
but  realize  the  time  and  labor  consumed  in  earning  the  ' 
miserable  pittance  Weylibw  pay.  What  would  they 
think,  were  they  compelled,  as  we  are,  to  work  for  two, 
or  at  the  very  utmost,  three  cents,  an  hour,  and  from 
twelve  to  sixteen  hours  each  day  ?  I  will  think  they  do 
not  properly  estimate  our  work,  or  they  would  mete  to 
us,  at  least,  the  sembiance  of  justice." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Laura,"  said  her  mother  ;  "  when  you 
are  older,  and  have  seen  a  few  more  of  the  ways  of  men, 
and  the  world,  you  will  be  wiser  than  to  indulge  in  such 
foolish  ideas.     Come,  we  must  go  to  work,  and  be  thank- 
ful that  we  can  earn  a  subsistence  at  all.     The  em- " 
ployers,  you  may  rest  assured,  will  never  voluntarily 
I  take  any  steps  to  amend  our  condition,  from  the  fear 
I  that  it  would  operate  against  their  profits." 
I       Mother  and  daughter  commenced  their  tasks.  At  first, 
)  they  chatted  in  tones  of  cheerfulness,  but  gradually  they 
\  ceased,  and  their  work  was  carried  on  in  silence,  inter- 


50  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


i 


rupted  only  by  the  occasional  rustling  of  the  garments  \ 
through  which  they  plied  their  needles. 

Clara  did  not  return  from  the  Misses  Simmons  until  ! 
after  eight  o'clock,  and  then  all  work  was  laid  aside,  to 
prepare  their  frugal  evening  meal.  < 

"  Well,  Clara,"  said  Laura  to  her  sister,  as  they  were  < 
laying  the  table,  "I  hope  all  your  anticipations  have  ; 
been  realized  at  Mr.  Simmons's."  ' 

"  Laura,''  said  Clara,  pausing  in  her  work,  "I  vould  ' 
rather  be  Clara  Elliott,  the  poor  dress-maker,  than  to  be  < 
Miss  Simmons,  with  all  her  wealth,  and  all  her  pride  j 
and  heartlessness."  ' 

"  Oh,  I  expected  as  much,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  ' 
how  do  you  like  the  idea  of  working  for  them,  and  do  ' 
you  still  think  their  custom  will  be  of  such  service  as  | 
you  expected  ?" 

"  As  to  that,  I  cannot  yet  say,  for  they  have  paid  no  ; 
more  attention  to  me  than  if  I  had  been  a  cat  or  a  dog; 
and  I  have  heard  things  to-day,  which  I  want  to  forget 
as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  thankful  for  their  work,  and 
shall  be  thankful  for  my  money,  when  I  receive  it ;  so 
let  us  say  no  more  at  present  of  the  Misses  Sim- 
mons." 

After  the  evening  meal  was  concluded,  Mrs.  Elliott 
exhibited  to  Clara  the  work  she  had  obtained,  and  stated  *» 
the  price  she  was  to  receive  for  it;  but  she  neither 
manifested  nor  expressed  any  surprise.  ) 

"  I  am  sure,  mother,  that  is  quite  enough  for  a  coarse  | 
shirt ;  for  how  can  the  employers  make  money  if  they  | 
pay  more  ?     No,  no,  ten  cents  is  a  good  price.     But  if —  ! 


/  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  51 

J  no,  I  won't  say  what  I  was  going  to :  it  was  wicked. 
Come,  let  me  help  you,  mother,  or  you  Laura." 

^      "  No,  dear ;  you  have  been  at  work  all  day,  and  need 

j  rest." 

j       *^  Well,  and  have  you  not  toiled  all  day,  too,  I  should 

j  like  to  know,  and  who  has  a  better  right  to  help  you 

j  than  I  have  ?     So,  give  me  some  work — I  can't  bear  to 

I  be  idle." 

"  God  forgive  me  for  murmuring,"  said  Laura,  as  she 
looked  at  her  sister.  "  I  was  wicked  to-day,  Clara,  and 
cried  myself  almost  sick  ;  but  I  will  never  do  so  again. 
I  will  follow  your  example,  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  How  much  do  you  get  for  making  those  vests, 
Laura?" 

"  Two  shillings  and  sixpence." 
"  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  enough  for  them,"  said  Clara, 
in  the  same  sg,rcastic  ton&  in  which  she  had  spoken  of 
the  shirts.  "  Mr.  Simmons,  I  dare  say,  tells  everybody 
he  gives  a  dollar  apiece  for  making  them,  and  everybody 
believes  him.  Oh,  he  is  a  noble,  generous  man !  I  won- 
der what  his  daughters  would  say,  if  they  should  ever 
come  down  to  making  shirts  at  ten  cents,  pantaloons  at 
two  shillings  and  sixpence,  and  vests  at  the  sai;xie  exor- 
bitant price  ?     Such  a  thing  may  hftppen."  ^ 

"Hush,  hush,  Clara,"  said  her  mother;  "you  speak 
as  if  you  almost  wished  it." 

"  Well,  and  so  I  do,  and  may  God  forgive  me  for  it. 
When  I  see  wealth  united  to  such  pride,  haughtiness  and 
heartlessness,  I  think  it  but  just  that  they  should  suffer 
some.     If  the  wealthy  only  knew  one  half  the  sufferings 


l> 


1 


I 


52       ~ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


^j 


n 


L 


of  those  who  toil  to  make  them  rich,  and  had  any  hearts, 
do  yoolsuppose  they  could  not  amend  our  condition  ? 
(They  are  the  only  ones  who  can  do  it." 

" How,  my  dear,**  asked  Mrs.  Elliott,  "could  they 
improve  our  condition?" 

"  By  placing  the  addition  to  the  price  of  the  article, 
instead  of  deducting  it  from  the  earnings  of  the  toil-worn 
seamstress.  Dou  you  suppose  there  is  a  man  living, 
possessing  the  ordinary  feelings  of  our  nature,  who  would 
not  cheerfully  pay  a  shilling  or  two  more,  if  it  was  re- 
quired,  for  a  shirt,  or  vest,  or  any  other  garment,  if  he 
knew  the  money  he  paid  went  to  remunerate  the  poor 
seamstress,  who  is  compelled  to  subsist — for  I  don't  call 
it  living — on  two  or  three  shillings  a  day,  at  the  very 
utmost — and  even  that  miserable  pittance  earned  by  the 
most  unceasing  drudgery  ?" 

"  That  is  very  good  theory,  Clara ;   but  most  employ- 
ers prefer  to  undersell  their  neighbors,  even  though  in 
order  to  do  it,  they  must  make  up  the  difference  to  them- 
selves from  the  hard-earned  wages  of  the  seamstress.  1 
No,  no,  my  dear,  you  must  change  human  nature  first,  J 
and  then  you  may  hope  to  see  justice  done  to  those  situat-  \ 
ed  like  ourselves."  | 

"  But  surely,  mother,  it  does  not  require  that  man's  I 
nature  should  be  changed,  in  order  that  we  should  re-  ! 
ceive  justice  at  his  hands?     It  is  my  firm  belief,  that 
many  of  those  who  employ  seamstresses,  are  utterly  ig-  \ 
norant  of  the  extent  of  their  labors,  ard  the  inadequacy 
of  the  compensation  ;  and  perhaps  they  are  fixed  in  the 
belief,  that  they  have  no  cause  for  complaint,  for  the 


J  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  53  \ 

\  simple  reasonj(4hat  they  do  not  complain.     But  I  will 
)  not  harbor  so  poor  an  opinion  of  human  nature  yet." 
"  Well,  my  dear,  you  will  learn  ere  long,  I  fear,  that 
you  must  entertain  such  opinions.    But  come,  let  us  drop 
j  this  subject.     It  only  renders  us  unhappy  and  discon- 
tented." 


V-'''  . .  -"i^'-^ 


54 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  VI.  ; 

r 

\ 

On  the  evening  of  Wednesday  in  the  same  week,  ', 
Miss  Edwards,  the  young  girl  who  had  been  met  in  the  | 
street  and  recognised  by  Laura,  paid  her  promised  j 
visit ;  and,  as  she  had  said,  brought  her  work  with  her,  | 
in  order  that  she  might  lose  no  time.  j 

"I  suppose,"  said  Laura,  as  their  visitor  entered  ; 
their  humbly  furnished  room,  "  I  need  make  no  apology  ; 
for  the  appearance  of  our  room.  All  of  our  time  is  ; 
occupied  with  our  work,  and  had  we  any  to  spare,  I  ( 
see  no  prospect  at  present  of  our  earning  sufficient  to  ! 
procure  any  thing  further  than  the  common  necessaries  i 
of  life.  I 

"  Truly,  you  need  make  none,"  said  Miss  Edwards.  | 
"  I  have  been  compelled  to  toil  with  my  needle  for  my  ) 
subsistence  for  years,  and  the  most  unceasing  efforts  on  \ 
my  part,  have  not  enabled  me  to  lay  by  a  single  dollar 
for  emergencies.  I  am,  as  I  must  needs  be,  content  to  ( 
subsist,  not  live,  and  I  never,  if  I  can  possibly  avoid  it,  \ 
suffer  myself  to  anticipate  consequences,  or  to  look  to  { 
the  future.";^  I 

"You  have  one  advantage  over  us,"  said  Clara.  J 


,../.f?» 


ti^ 


vH^JJ^ 

)  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  55 

I  "  You  have  learned  your  lessons,  bitter  though  they 
;  may  have  been — ours  are  yet  to  come.  I  fear  we  have 
(  hard  tasks  before  us." 

\       "  I  have  no  desire,  I  assure  you,  to  discourage  you,  ) 
(  or    say  any  thing  to  dishearten  you,    but    you  have 
J  indeed  much  that  is  unpleasant  yet  to  learn — if,  as  Miss 
)  Laura  has  said,  you  rely  upon  your  industry  entirely 
i  for  your  living.     Mine  has  been  a  bitter  experience, 
J  dearly  bought,  although  it  profits  me  but  little." 
(       "  Come,  come,  Louisa,"  said  Mrs.  Elliott, "  let  us  have 
\  the  benefit  of  your  experience.     It  may  serve  us  much 
'  hereafter  :  and  though  it  is  prying  into  your  confidence, 
!  perhaps  the  necessity  which  urges  us  to  ask  it,  may  J 
(■  prove  a  sufficient  apology  for  the  liberty." 

"  I  will  very  cheerfully  do  so,  and  not  think  it  any  j 
(  liberty  in  asking,"  was  the  reply.  "  Mine,  however,  is  j 
(  an  every-day  story,  but  there  are  few  who  will  believe  I 
{  it  to  be  so ;  and  few  I  fear  who  can  be  found  to  believe  j 
it  true ;  and  very  few  are  there  who  pass  me  in  the  j 
streets,  as  I  go  to  and  from  my  house  to  the  shop  for  j 
"wKich  I  work,  who  would  believe  that  I  toil  fourteen 
hours  every  day  for  less  than  three  shillings.  Ay,  and 
I  have  worked  more  hours  for  less  money,  and  have 
been  cheated  out  of  that  at  last." 

"  Do,  that's  a  good  girl,"  said  Clara,  whose  interest 
began  to  be  awakened  ;  "  do  tell  us  all  about  yourself. 
I  have  often  noticed  you  in  your  window^  sewing  away 
so  steadily  and  so  cheerfully,  I  have  set  you  down  as 
a  wonderfully  industrious  girl." 

"  You  are  not  wrong  there,"  said  Louisa,  laughing. 


56  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

"  But  I  make  a  virtue  out  of  necessity — or  rather  nG-  { 
cessity  impels  me  to  the  practice  of  industry — without 
/  )  it,  I  should  starve.  But,  to  gratify  you,  I  will,  if  you  j 
wish  to  hear  it,  give  you  the  benejfit  of  all  my  experi-  I 
ence,  and  at  the  risk  of  discouraging  you,  will  tell  you  j 
all  I  have  suffered  and  the  impositions  practiced  on  | 
me.  I  suppose,  though,  you  don't  care  for  hearing  of  <, 
my  earlier  days ;  for  they  can  interest  no  person  but  ( 
myself."  j 

"You  are  much  mistaken  there,"  said  Mrs.  Elliott;  I 
"  we  should  much  like  to  hear  all  you  choose  to  relate.  J 
We  may,  from  even  your  experience,  derive  lessons  ] 
which  may  prove  useful  to  us."  < 

"  It  will  recall  many  painful  occurrences  to  me,"  re- 
plied Miss  Edwards ;  "  but  I  have  no  right  to  check 
them,  as  the  narration  of  them  may  serve  as  a  warning 
to  you,  and  may  save  you  from  being  defrauded,  as  I 
have  been." 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary,  and  would  only  tire  you,  to 
relate  any  thing  concerning  my  girlish  days ;  I  will, 
therefore,  commence  at  the  period  when  my  father 
died.  ! 

"  You  may  not  remember  my  father,"  she  continued,  ) 
"  but  he  was  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Elliott,  and  their  j 
friendship  continued  firm  and  unchanged  for  many  j 
years.  Soon  after  the  death  of  my  poor  dear  mother,  j 
it  seemed  as  if  every  thing  went  wrong  with  father,  j 
First,  he  lost  his  situation  in  the  shop  where  he  had  ! 
worked  ever  since  he  was  out  of  his  time,  and  then  his  j 
health  began  to  fail,  and  in  less  than  a  year  from  the  ) 


^ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  57 

time  my  mother  was  laid  in  her  grave,  he  was  laid  by 
her  side,  and  I  was  left  alone  in  the  world.  I  was  then 
only  fourteen  years  old,  and  not  very  well  calculated, 
I  assure  you,  to  take  care  of  myself — for  I  had  been 
rather  too  much  petted  to  be  very  useful.  However, 
Providence  threw  me  in  the  way  of  a  kind  friend,  who 
j  was  too  poor  to  be  of  any  service  to  me,  except  by  her 
advice  and  example,  both  of  which  were  founded  on 
purely  Christian  principles,  and  both  of  which  she  freely 
bestowed  upon  me.  She  was  a  seamstress,  and  worked 
on  the  clothing  made  up  in  what  are  termed  slop  shops ; 
but  I  won't  discourage  you  by  telling  now  what  she 
earned,  and  how  hard  she  worked. 

"  Of  course,  I  had  to  do  something  for  my  own  sup- 
port, and  as   she  left   it  to   me  to   make   a  selection 
of  a  trade,  I  chose  cap  making,  as  I  thought  it  would 
be  the  easiest  for  me  ;  and  one  day  having  observed  an 
advertisement  in  one  of  the  penny  papeife  of  a  man  who 
wanted  thirty  or  forty  hands  to  learn  the  trade  of  cap 
making,  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  chance  for  me, 
j  for  a  man  who  employed  so  many  hands  must  do  a  large 
j  business,  and  would  ensure  steady  work,  especially  to 
I  those  who  learned  the  trade  with  him. 
I       "  I  went  down  town,  as  directed  by  the  advertise- 
!  ment,  and,  on  entering  the  shop,  found  about  twenty  or 
!  thirty  girls,  of  all  ages,  waiting  for  the  same  purpose 
^  which  had  brought  me  there.     The  proprietor  of  the 

establishment  was  a  little  keen-eyed  man,  very  Jewish  [ 
j  in  his  appearance,  but  wonderfully  polite  te  every  one.  | 
f  He  made  very  few  objections  to  any  of  the  girls,  but  re-  ! 


j  58  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

(  quired  all  of  them  to  walk  up-stairs,  where  the  fore- 
\  woman  would  instruct  them.  There  were  several 
among  them  who  had  worked  at  the  business  in  other 
establishments,  but  none  of  these  suited  him,  as  he  said 
he  had  plenty  who  knew  the  business,  and  wished  only 
those  who  desired  to  learn  the  trade.  I  was,  of  course, 
accepted,  and  was,  with  the  rest  sent  up-stairs  to  com- 
mence at  once. 

"  I  found  myself  in  a  large  room,  around  which  were 
placed  a  great  number  of  wooden  chairs,  nearly  all  of  | 
which  were  occupied,  and  having  taken  off  my  things,  I 
prepared  to  take  my  first  lesson  in  cap  making.     The 
forewoman  was  a  hard-featured  old  maid,  cross  and  sour 
as  vinegar,  but  admirably  suited  for  the  government  of 
so  great  a  number  of  mischievous  girls.     I  was  not 
suffered  to  remain  idle  very  long,  as  she  soon  placed 
some  work  in  my  hands,  and  gave  me  such  directions, 
I  could   not  well   make    any  mistakes.     Every  few  ( 
minutes  she  would  go  around  the  room,  looking  over  the 
girls  as  they  worked,  and  finding  fault  with  almost  j 
every  thing.     I  got  along  uncommonly  well,  however, 
and  only  had  one  scolding  the  whole  day.  j 

j  "  I  found  the  work  easy,  and  was  pleased  that  I  had  [ 
;  chosen  to  learn  this  trade  in  preference  to  any  other,  for  I 
j  was  a  very  fast  sewer,  and  felt  sure  that,  once  acquainted 
)  with  the  business,  I  could  earn  as  much  as  any  one  in  the  | 
shop,  besides  that  I  had  heard  of  several  girls  who  could  } 
i  make  as  much  as  three  dollars  a  week  at  it,  and  that,  ! 
you  know,  is  large  wages  for  a  sewing  girl.  j 

)       "It  was  not  expected,  of  course,  that  we  should  be  ■ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


59 


paid  any  thing  for  our  labor  until  we  had  learned  the 
trade,  so  I  worked  on  very  cheerfully  and  industriously, 
and  in  about  a  month  I  had  mastered  every  branch  of 
it,  so  far  as  carried  on  by  the  establishment,  and  con- 
gratulated myself  that  I  should  not  much  longer  be  a 
burthen  to  my  kind  hearted  friend,  for  she  had  given 
me  food  and  shelter,  such  as  she  had  herself,  from  mo- 
tives of  the  purest  benevolence. 

"  You  may  guess  of  the  amount  of  work  done  in  that 
time  by  us,  when  I  inform  you  that  there  were  sixty- 
three  girls  at  work,  each  one  of  whom  made  from  three 
to  ten  caps  per  day  ;  so  that  in  the  month  it  required  to 
l^arn  the  trade,  Mr.  B  *  *  *,  for  that  was  the  name  of 
the  proprietor,  had  an  immense  stock  of  caps  of  all 
kinds  made  up,  and  well  made  too,  for  every  cap  not 
made  to  suit  the  forewoman,  had  to  be  made  over  again. 

"Just  about  the  time  I  was  beginning  to  think  we 
knew  the  trade  well  enough  to  be  paid  something  for 
our  work,  Mr.  B  *  *  *  came  up  one  Satu  rday  afternoon, 
and  in  his  blandest  tones  informed  us  that  he  had  no 
more  work  at  present — that  he  was  satisfied  with  all  of 
us,  and  when  business  commenced  again  he  would  give 
us  the  preference,  and  send  for  us.  He  was  very  sorry 
that  it  was  so,  but  he  could  not  help  it. 

"  This  was  a  stunning  blow  to  all  of  us,  for  we  had 
expected  to  be  steadily  employed  for  the  remainder  of 
the  season,  as  we  had  worked  so  diligently  and  faith- 
fully to  learn  the  trade. 

"  But  there  was  no  use  of  complaining.  We  had 
gone  to  his  establishment  to  learn  the  trade,  and  nothing 


} 


60  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


L 


more.  We  had  learned  it,  and  that  was  something ;  so 
with  heavy  hearts,  we  put  on  our  things  and  started  for 
our  homes. 

"  In  a  day  or  two  afterwards  I  saw  an  advertisement 
similar  to  the  one  which  had  taken  me  to  Mr.  B  *  *  *'s, 
and  I  thought  I  would  go  down  and  see  if  I  could  not 
get  work.     I  went  down  ;  and,  on  telling  my  business,  j 
the  man  behind  the  counter  asked  my  name  and  resi-  i 
dence,  which  I  gave  him  readily,  thinking  myself  sure  } 
of  a  situation.     My  surprise  was  great,  however,  when  J 
T  saw  him  look  at  a  list  he  had  in  his  hand,  and,  after  j 
examining  it  a  few  moments,  he  said :  j 

"  We  have  nothing  for  you." 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  this,  but  determined  ■> 
to  look  on,  and  see  if  I  could  find  any  clue  to  it.     Soon  j 
after  another  girl,  whom  I  recognised  as  one  who  had  } 
learned  her  trade  with  Mr.  B  *  *  *  at  the  same  time  with  \ 
myself,  made  a  similar  application,  and  received  the  ^ 
same  reply,  after  the  list  had  been  examined.     Another  ) 
and  another  followed,  each  of  whom  had  worked  there, 
and  this  let  me  into  the  secret.     Both  these  establish-  J 
ments  belonged  to  Mr.  B  *  *  *,  and  the  list  the  man  had 
in  his  hand,  contained  the  names  of  those  who  had 
learned  the  trade  at  the  same  time  with  myself. 

"  I  saw  through  it  at  once.     These  advertisements,  of 

course,  brought  hundreds  of  girls  to  his  shop  seeking  | 

employment,  and,  under  the  pretence  of  teaching  them  ? 

j  the  trade,  he  kept  them  at  work  for  a  month  or  six  J 

I  weeks,  in  which  time  they  could  make  up  a  very  large  j 

j  stock.     By  the  time  they  had  either  learned  the  trade,  / 


)  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  61 

(  or  had  began  to  think  they  should  be  paid  something,  he 
}  always  managed  to  get  out  of  work,  and,  taking  down 
the  names  and  residences  of  those  who  had  worked 
there,  he  discharged  them,  promising  to  send  for  them 
when  he  had  work.     This  list  he  sent  to  his  other  es- 
tablishment, and  advertised  there  for  girls  to  learn  the 
trade  ;  but  none  who  had  worked  in  one  shop  ever  found 
work  in  the  other.     In  this  manner  he  managed  twice  or 
thrice  in  each  year  to  get  a  large  stock  of  caps  made  up 
/  for  nothing,  at  each  of  his  establishments,  while  the  poor 
(  girls  lived  in  hope  that  when  the  busy  season  came 
S  around  again,  they  would  find  plenty  of  work  from 
j  him." 

)  "  Well,"  interrupted  Laura,  "  if  that  is  not  perfectly 
j  infamous.  I  did  not  think  there  was  so  much  mean- 
)  ness  in  existence."  ') 

j  "  That  is  only  one  plan,"  rejoined  Miss  Edwards,  half  i 
!  laughing.  "  I  will  tell  you  another  for  getting  a  good  ) 
stock  made  up  for  nothing.  I  went  home  that  day  with  a  ! 
heavy  heart,  and  related  to  my  friend  the  discovery  I  | 
had  made,  but  she  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised,  as  she  j 
had  gone  through  similar  trials  herself.  j 

"  It  was  not  long  before  I  found  another  advertise-  ) 
ment,  headed — '  Cap  makers  Wanted  on  trial,'  and  this 
time  I  felt  sure  of  success.     I  was  a  first  rate  work- 
man, and  knew  I  could  make  caps  as  well  as  any  one,  ) 
so  I  went  to  the  store  named  with  confidence.  j 

"  This  man  was  an  unmistakable  Jew,  and  not  so  civil 
by  half  as  Mr.  B  *  *  *,~but  that  did  not  surprise  me  at  all,  \ 
for  I  did  not  expect  so  much  politeness  from  a  man  who  ) 


62 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


/  was  to  pay  for  my  work,  as  from  one  who  received  it 
for  nothing.  I  informed  him  that  I  had  learned  my 
trade  thoroughly,  and  that  I  was  ready  to  make  a  cap 
or  so  on  trial ;  but  he  coolly  handed  me  a  large  bundle, 
saying :  '  There  are  two  dozen  there — if  you  make 
them  up  to  suit,  I  will  pay  the  usual  price,  if  not,  I 
don't  give  any  thing.  If  you  suit  I  will  give  you  steady 
work.' 

"  I  felt  so  sure  of  satisfying  him,  I  took  my  heavy 
bundle  and  trudged  home  with  a  light  heart.  In  a  week 
I  had  them  all  done,  and  well  made  too,  for  I  had  taken 
especial  pains  with  them,  and  I  started  for  the  store 
with  the  certain  prospect  of  receiving  the  sum  I  had 
earned,  which  was  one  dollar  and  a  quarter. 

"  On  reaching  the  store,  I  opened  my  bundle  with 
confidence ;  but  imagine  my  disappointment  when  he 
commenced  a  scrutiny  of  my  work,  which  at  once 
dampened  my  hopes.  He  found  more  or  less  fault  with 
e?ery  cap,  and,  without  giving  fne  time  to  say  one  word 
in  my  own  defence,  he  wound  up,  saying:  'He  could 
not  think  of  paying  for  such  work  as  that,  nor  could  he 
trust  me  with  any  more,  if  I  could  do  no  better  than  I 
had  done.'  This  was  a  dreadful  blow  to  me,  and  I  fell 
back  from  the  counter,  my  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  bit- 
ter disappointment,  which  I  could  not  suppress,  and 
my  heart  sad  within  me." 

"  In  a  few  minutes  another  girl  came  in  with  her  two 

(  dozen  caps,  for  each  one  had  that  number  given  to  her 

}  on  trial.     The  same  scrutiny  followed — the  same  faults 

were  found,  and  the  same  excuse  made  for  giving  no 


i'  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  63 

i  more  work.     Now  this  man  had  given  out  two  dozen 
J  caps  each  to  fort;^-seven_girls,  all  on  trial,  to  be  paid 
i  for  if  they  suited  ;  and,  out  of  the  whole  number,  there 
)  was  not  one  whose  work  gave  satisfaction,  or  who  re- 
i  ceived  one  cent  for  her  labor.     So  you  see  he  managed 
\  to  get  a  nice  little  stock  made  up  for  nothing,  and,  by 
'  repeating  this  operation  three  or  five  times  a-year,  the 
'  labor  of  making  up  his  caps  was  not  very  expensive. 
)       "  Well,  I  thought  I  had  learned  two  or  three  of  the 
';  worst  tricks  of  that  trade,  and  I  was  fain  to  be  content  \ 
•  with  my  experience,  although  it  was  dearly  bought ;  j 
I  but  I  was  yet  to  learn  a  little  more.  j 

j      *'  Another  advertisement  for  cap  makers  attracted  my  j 
j  attention,  and  this  time  as  they  were  neither  wanted 
(  to  learn  the  trade,  or  on  trial,  I  indulged  a  reasonable  j 
{  hope  of  being  able  to  earn  something,  and  what  was 
J  more,  of  being  paid. 

J      "  I  went  to  the  store,  and,  without  any  difficulty,  re- 
(  ceived  a  large  bundle,  containing  about  four  dozen  caps, 
;  for  which  I  was  to  receive,  when  made  up,  one  dol- 
l  lar,  these  being  a  very  common  article.     I    did  not 
I  much  like  the  looks  of  the  establishment  or  the  proprie- 
tor.    The  store  was  in  a  large  room  oh  the  second  floor, 
{  entirely  unfurnished,  except  a  very  long  counter,  and 
j  one  or  two  stools  behind  it.     The  proprietor  was  an 
(  easy  spoken,  civil  man,  but  he  did  not  look  much  like 
the  personification  of  honesty,  and  as  I  had  been  de- 
ceived twice  already,  I  thought  it  but  fair  to  be  on  the 
look  out  for  the  third  attempt,  so  I  asked  if  I  should  be 
}}aid  as  soon  as  I  brought  my  work  home. 


64  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  ) 


-*^^^^^^m^ 


"  'Certainly,  my  dear,'  was  the  reply.  *Do  you 
think  I  would  cheat  poor  girls  who  have  to  sew  so 
hard  as  you  do  for  their  living  ?  No,  no  ;  short  credits 
make  long  friends :  only  do  your  work  well  and  I  will 
do  mine.' 

"  Thus  re-assured,  I  started  homewards,  quite  elated 
with  the  certainty  of  earning  my  own  living,  and  with 
the  sure  prospect  of  prompt  payment.  I  worked  faith- 
fully the  whole  week,  and  by  dint  of  drawing  pretty 
largely  on  those  hours  which  ought  to  have  been  passed 
in  sleep,  I  had  my  whole  number  finished  by  Saturday 
evening,  and  took  them  to  the  shop." 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  65  ' 


CHAPTER   VII. 


"  The  proprietor  was  not  there  when  I  went  in,  but  a 
boy  who  received  the  caps,  told  me  he  was  quite  sick 
at  home,  and  in  consequence  could  not  get  down  to  pay 
the  girls  off,  but  would  endeavor  to  come  early  on  Mon- 
day morning,  and  requested  all  of  us  to  be  there  before  S 
nine  o'clock,  as  he  would  then  pay  us  for  the  work  we 
had  done,  and  give  out  more.  This  was  told  to  all  of 
us,  for  we  had  been  urged  not  to  neglect  having  all  the 
work  we  took  out  finished  by  Saturday  night,  and  I  be- 
lieve every  one  had  done  so.  I  must  confess,  I  felt 
rather  suspicious,  but  there  was  no  use  in  saying  any- 
thing, so  I  started  homeward,  but  not  so  light-hearted  as 
when  I  left  it,  determined,  however,  not  to  entertain  any 
unjust  suspicions. 

"  On  Monday  morning,  I  was  at  the  store  by  eight 
o'clock,  but  it  was  not  yet  opened,  so  I  waited  at  the 
door,  and  soon  the  other  girls  came  along,  one  by  one, 
until  upward  of  thirty  were  assembled,  waiting  the  ar- 
rival of  the  proprietor.  The  gentleman  who  kept  the 
store  beneath,  came  out,  after  our  patience  was  well  nigh 
exhausted,  and  after  learning  the  nature  of  our  businesss, 


66  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


( 


informed  us  that  the  second  floor  had  been  rented  for  one  j 
week  Qiily,  by  the  man  who  recently  occupied  it,  and  that  j 
Re  had  paid  his  rent  and  delivered  the  key  to  him  on 
Saturday  night.  j 

"  Thus,  for  the  third  time,  I  was  defrauded,  and  then  \ 
I  felt  perfectly  wretched.  This  man  would  go  and  hire 
a  vacant  store,  or  a  large  room,  in  the  business  part  of 
the  city  for  a  week,  generally  paying  his  rent  in  ad- 
vance, and  bringing  no  more  stock  there  than  he  could 
give  out.  Then  he  would  advertise  for  cap-makers,  and 
was  sure  of  procuring  from  forty  to  fifty.  To  each  he 
gave  out  caps  according  to  the  quality  and  the  time  it 
would  require  to  make  them  up,  always  urging  them  to 
have  their  work  done  by  Saturday  night. 

"  Thus,  by  changing  about  from  one  street  to  another, 
and  by  having  two  or  three  other  persons  connected  with 
him,  who  acted  at  his  other  stores,  (for  it  would  never 
do  for  him  to  be  caught  twice  at  the  trick,)  he  could 
manage,  four  or  five  times  a  year,  to  have  an  immense 
stock  made  up,  ve7'y  cheaply  too,  he  paying  nothing  but 
^  I  his  week's  rent.  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  these  shame- 
(  ful  deceptions  are  practiced  by  those  who  are  establish- 

Jed  in  a  respectable  business,  although  some  of  them  have 
various  methods  of  getting  from  the  girls  the  greatest 
possible  amount  of  labor,  with  the  least  expenditure  of 
money,  such,  for  instance,  as  paying  them  in  cents,  and 
giving  only  ninety-six  for  a  dollar. 
"These  tricks  are  played  by  men  of  no  character  or 
I  reputation,  who  would  not  suffer  by  a  public  exposure,  ! 
•     (  and  who  are  not  established  in  a  regular  business ;  but 


! 


^-c^->        I  ^  \ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  67 


the  poor  girls  suffer  through  them,  and  that  is  all  from 
which  I  wished  to  warn  you. 

"  I  had  one  or  two  similar  trials  afterward,  but  I  was 
not  quite  so  shamefully  defrauded,  so  I  pass  them  over, 
as  I  do  not  think  they  would  afford  you  either  interest 
or  instruction.  But  at  length  Tfell  in  with  an  honor- 
able employer,  for  whom  I  have  worked  steadily  ever 
since— -one  who  pays  as  much  as  any  other  for  the  same 
kind  of  work,  and  who  has  never  attempted  any  of  these 
shameful  practices."  ! 

"  Well,"  said  Laura,  who  had  been  deeply  attentive  [ 
while  Miss  Edwards  was  narrating  this  little  sketch  of  j 
the  experience  she  had  purchased  so  dearly,  **  I  did  not  [ 
think  there  were  men  with  such  principles  in  existence  | 
— I  mean,  men  pretending  to  be  men  of  business.     I 
know  that  in  most  cases  they  beat  down  the  wages  of 
the  girls,  and  oppress  them  almost  to  starvation  point, 
but  I  did  not  imagine  any  could  be  found  such  as  you 
have  described,  who  would  rack  their  brains  to  devise 
so  many  ways  of  defrauding  those  in  their  employ. 
Heaven  knows,  they  receive  little  enough  for  their  work 
as  it  is." 

'^  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Elliott,  "  you  have,  and 
indeed  we  all  have,  I  fear,  very  much  to  learn  yet. 
And  you,  too,  Clara,"  she  added,  turning  to  her — "  Why, 
bless  me,  what  are  you  crying  about  ?"  she  exclaimed, 
now  noticing  that  Clara's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  mother,  nothing,"  replied  Clara,  hastily,  I 
and  dashing  the  tears  away,  which  filled  her  eyes  ;  "  I 
was  thinking  then  of  my  own  trifling  disappointments. 


^  68 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


But  no  matter,  they  are  passed,  and  I  will  not  worry  any 
more  about  them." 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  Miss  Edwards,  inquiringly,  "  you 
have  suffered  some  then  already  ?  I  knew  you  would, 
as  soon  as  I  saw  your  sign  out :  there  are  so  many  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  young  beginners." 

"  But,"  said  Clara,  anxious  to  turn  the  conversation 
from  herself  and  her  disappointments,  *^  you  say  you 
have  constant  employment  now  :  what  can  you  earn  a 
week  ?" 

"Why,  in  very  good  times,  and  by  working  from 
fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a  day,  I  can  make  as  much  as 
two  dollars,  but  the  average  for  the  year  round  is  about 
one  dollar  and  a  half.  Much,  however,  depends  on  the 
kind  of  work." 

"  And  how  long  do  you  work  for  that  ?"  asked 
Laura. 

"  Never  less  than  twelve,  and  often  fourteen  and  six- 
teen hours  a  day,"  was  the  reply,  uttered  as  if  uncon- 
scious that  anything  had  been  said  to  excite  surprise. 

A  dead  silence  followed  this  reply :  it  appeared  so  j 
monstrous  that,  for  such  a  miserable  pittance,  a  girl,  i 
young,  healthy  and  industrious,  should  be  compelled  to  ) 
wear  out  her  very  life.  ! 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  thus  employed?"        j 

"  Four  years  next  October,"  replied  Miss  Edwards.  ! 
"During  that  time,  thank  God,  I  have  never  been  so  ; 
unfortunate  as  to  know  a  sick  day ;  but  I  have  never  ) 
had  a  single  day  of  recreation,  during  these  four  years,  } 
except  on  Sundays,  New-Year's,  and  on  the  fourth  of  J 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  69 


July — nor  have  I  ever  taken  a  single  holiday,  except  on 
those  days." 

"  Don't  you  ever  go  out  to  see  your  friends  ?" 
)  (( Priends  !  where  is  a  poor  girl  who  sews  for  a  living, 
i  and  an  orphan,  too,  to  find  friends  ?  I  have  none.  I  have 
{  a  few  acquaintances^  Fut  ITardly  ever  visit  them,  for  my 
\  time  is  too  precious  to  waste  in  paying  visits.  Day  after 
(  day,  week  after  week,  and  month  after  month,  I  sit  in  one 
s  place,  and  sew  from  morning  to  night,  and  the  only  exer- 
{  cise  I  ever  take  is  when  I  go  with  my  work  to  the  shop, 
J  and  return.  On  Sundays  I  am  too  much  exhausted  to  go 
I  out,  and  if  I  was  ever  so  much  inclined  to  go  to  church,  I 
f  could  not." 

"  And  why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Elliott,  in  evident  sur- 
prise. 

"  You  will  find  out  before  long  yourselves,"  was  the 
reply,  as  a  blush  tinged  the  cheek  of  the  speaker ;  and 
she  immediately  added,  as  if  desirous  of  changing  the 
current  of  her  hearers'  thoughts  :  "  It  is  a  lonely,  weary 
life  to  lead,  but  I  try  to  make  the  best  of  it.  I  do  not  dare  to 
look  to  the  future,  but  console  myself  with  the  reflection, 
that  'sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof,'  and  try 
to  be  thankful  for  my  present  comforts." 

"  And  what  would  become  of  you  should  you  be  taken 
sick  ?"  inquired  Clara,  with  trembling  eagerness.  j 

"  If  I  did  not  die  too  soon,  I  might  possibly  be  sent  to  j 
the  hospital,  as  a  sick  pauper."  I 

A  long  pause  followed  this  reply,  each  one  evidently  | 
deeply  meditating  on  what  they  had  heard ;  and  the  ] 
countenances  of  her  hearers  showed  that  her  words  • 


X' 


70  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


had  taught  them  how  little  of  hope  the  future  had  for  I 
them.  1 

"  But,"  inquired  Laura,  "do  you  never  have  any  one  ( 
to  come  and  sit  vfiih  you  ?      Do  you  have  nothing  day  j 
after  day,  but  the  cheerless  solitude  of  your  room,  with  v 
nothing  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  your  work? — no 
friend  or  acquaintance  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  your 
time  V 

"  Once  in  a  great  while,  some  one  of  the  girls  who 

work  for  the  same  shop  that  I  do,  will  come  and  bring 

her  work  for  half  a  day ;  and  sometimes  the  woman 

with  whom  I  board  will  come  and  sit  a  few  minutes  with  ( 

me.     Except  those,  I  have  no  one,  and  still  I  would 

rather  work  there  alone,  than  go  to  the  shop  and  work 

)  among  thirty  or  forty  girls,  whom  one  knows  not,  and 

perhaps,  there  are  some  whom  it  is  better  not  to  know." 

"  What  do  you  have  to  pay  for  your  board  ?"  asked 

\  Clara. 

j  "A  dollar  and  a  half  a  week  ;  that  is  as  cheap  as  I 
\  can  get  it  now-a-days.  But  come,  I  won^t  tell  you  any 
)  more  to-night.  I  have  already  told  you  too  much:  I 
j  see  you  are  all  out  of  spirits." 

"  No,  no,  not  at  all,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Elliott.  "  We 
thank  you,  I  am  sure,  for  your  kindness  and  confidence, 
for,  in  our  ignorance,  we  must  have  been  exposed  to 
the  same  frauds  as  yourself,  without  the  power  to 
guard  against  them.  Here  is  Clara,  now  ;  she  has  been 
constantly  at  work  since  the  day  on  which  she  first 
commenced  dress-making,  and  she  has  not  as  yet  re- 
ceived one  single  cent." 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  71 


"  Why  ?  Have  they  not  been  able  to  pay  for  whom 
she  worked  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  dare  say  they  are  all  abundantly  able  to 
pay ;  but  they  consider,  probably,  the  amount  due  to 
her  so  trifling,  it  is  not  worth  while  speaking  of;  and 
Clara  has  already  offended  some  of  her  customers,  by 
asking  for  what  she  had  earned.  Her's  is  a  hard  case, 
but  nothing  to  what  you  have  suffered." 
i  "  Ah,  that  is  too  often  tlie  case  with  the  rich,"  re- 
plied Miss  Edwards.  "  They  forget  that  the  sum  which 
to  them  is  a  trifle,  is  to  us  almost  wealth.  They  know 
not  how  many  little  necessaries  for  us  are  dependent 
on  the  prompt  payment  of  those  trifles." 

"  Well,  I  have  good  customers  now,"  said  Clara,  who 
did  not  much  relish  to  have  it  known  how  unsuccessful 
she  had  been. 

"  I  dare  say  you  have.  Miss  Clara,"  said  Louise  ; 
"  but  the  rich  are  not  always  the  best  customers. 
Mrs.  Flender,  the  kind  friend  who  took  care  of  me 
after  my  father's  death,  has  told  me  that  she  was  once 
)  employed  as  seamstress  in  one  of  the  wealthiest  fami- 
lies in  the  city,  residing  in  a  splendid  mansion  in 
W Place,  where  she  worked  without  intermis- 
sion from  ten  to  twelve  hours  each  day — and  what  do 
you  suppose  they  paid  her  ?" 

"  I  suppose  six  shillings  a  day,"  said  Clara,  who  had 
estimated  the  price  according  to  the  amount  of  labor,  a 
mode  of  calculation  which  after  experience  taught  her 
was  quite  erroneous. 

'^  Two  shillings,  and  her  board !  Clara,  and  she  lost 


j  72  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

(  her  situation  even  then,  because  she  would  not  make  up 
(  for  nothing  some  garments  for  the  poor,  which  Mrs. 
J  R  *  *  *  had  taken  to  make  up  for  some  charitable  J 
i  society  to  which  she  belonged."*  ' 

J      "  There,  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  tell  us  any  more," 
j  said  Laura,  with  a  shudder.     "I  have  half  a  mind  to 
have  a  good  cry  this  minute." 

"  That  would  be  very  foolish  and  very  childish,  Lau- 
ra," said  her  mother.  "I  am  sure  we  have  reason  to 
thank  Louise  for  her  kindness  in  telling  us  of  these 
things.  It  may  prevent  us  from  being  deceived  here- 
after, and  I  am  confident  that  neither  of  you  would  bear  j 
up  as  she  has  done." 

"  Well,  I  will  go  now,"  said  Miss  Edwards,  rising, 
and  gathering  up  her  work.  "  It  is  growing  late,  and 
we  all  need  rest,  I  am  sure  ;  so,  good  night,  but  don't 
think  too  much  on  what  I  have  told  you,  so  as  to  let  it 
worry  you." 

"  Mother,"  said  Clara,  after  Miss  Edwards  had  re- 
tired, "  I  have  half  a  mind  to  give  up  dress-making.  If  I 
am  to  be  cheated  all  the  time,  as  I  have  been  heretofore, 
out  of  my  hard  earnings,  I  had  better  give  up  at  once, 
and  try  something  else,  at  which  I  may  at  least  feel  sure 
of  being  paid  for  my  labor." 

"  No,  no,  not  yet,  my  child  ;  you  have  a  good  opening 
now  at  Mr.  Simmons's.  Try  and  improve  that  for  the 
present,  and  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  you  must 
give  it  up,  and  help  us  at  home.     I  see  no  other  course." 

*  This  is  an  absolute  fact,  and  if  necessary  the  names  could  be 
given. 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  73 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  to  make  a  new  calculation  as 
)  to  the  extent  of  our  earnings,"  said  Clara,  after  a  brief 
/  pause.  "  I  believe,  according  to  my  last  estimate,  Lau- 
j  ra  and  I  were  to  make  up  about  nine  dollars  a  week. 
/  With  the  present  prospect,  if  we  get  that  much  for  the 
)  month,  we  will  have  cause  to  be  thankful." 
)  "  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Laura  ;  "these  vests  I  am  mak- 
j  ing  cannot  bring  me  in  just  now  over  two  dollars  a  week, 
j  at  the  utmost,  for  it  is  new  work,  comparatively,  and  I 
j  cannot,  therefore,  make  as  many  at  present  as  I  hope  to 
I  do  hereafter.  It  takes  me  now  a  whole  day  of  hard  work 
j  to  make  one,  and  the  price  is  two  shillings  and  sixpence. 
I  That  lacks  a  shilling  of  the  two  dollars  a  week,  and  win- 
;  ter  is  coming  on  besides.     Dear  me,  I  fairly  shudder  to 

think  of  it." 
!      "  Hush,  hush,  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "do  not  begin  » 
I  to  look  ahead  so  far  already.      Remember  we  are  only 
j  making  experiments  now ;  we  may  succeed  better  by 
)  and  by.     It  will  never  do  to  be  so  easily  discouraged." 
;       "  Well,  mother,  we  will  hope  for  the  best,  but  it  is  only 

right  to  prepare  for  the  worst.  I  knew  we  should  have 
;•  many  difficulties  to  contend  with,  and  Louise  has  fairly 
\  frightened  me.  But  come,  it  is  bed-time  now,  and  I  want 
•  to  reflect  upon  what  I  have  heard;  so,  good  night." 
j  Thus  saying,  and  affectionately  kissing  her  mother  and 
)  sister,  she  retired. 

.;  "  I  much  fear,  Clara,"  said  Mrs.  Elliott,  when  Laura 
/  had  left  the  room,  "  that  you  will  be  under  the  necessity 
')  of  abandoning  the  dress-making,  unless  you  are  more 
(  successful  than  you  have  been  heretofore.     The  sum 


74  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  ( 

which  Laura  and  I  can  earn,  by  the  most  unceasing  in-  | 
dustry,  is  so  small,  we  cannot  possibly  get  on  without  in- 
curring debt,  and  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  which  would 
render  us  more  perfectly  miserable  than  to  be  in  debt, 
under  our  present  circumstances." 

"  I  am  sure,  mother,  I  shall  be  too  glad  to  be  of  any  as- 
sistance,  and  you  know  I  only  chose  dress-making  be-  , 
'  cause  I  hoped  it  would  prove  the  most  profitable.  You  ^ 
cannot  feel  for  my  disappointments  as  sensibly  as  I  do 
myself.  If  I  continue  to  be  as  unlucky  as  I  have  been, 
I  shall  gladly  give  up  dress-making,  and  commence  at 
something  else,  which  will  insure  a  certainty  of  remu- 
neration for  my  labor,  however  small.  But  I,  too,  must 
go  to  bed,  for  I  have  worked  very  steadily  to-day,  and 
am  really  weary  ;  so,  good  night,  dear  mother,  and  let 
us  hope  that  'brighter  hours  will  come.'  " 

The  week  was  passed  by  each  at  their  respective 
duties.  Laura  sewed  with  incessant  assiduity  upon  the 
vests,  and  by  Saturday  evening  had  completed  six, 
which,  at  the  price  paid  by  the  humane  Mr.  Simmons, 
who  boasted  of  having  always  paid  such  prices,  that  the 
girls  who  worked  for  him  could  make  a  very  comfortable 
living,  would  amount  to  the  sum  of  one  dollar  and  seven 
^  shillings  ! 

\  Mrs.  Elliott  had  made  fourteen  shirts  during  the 
week,  and  that  only  by  working  at  the  average  of 
i  twelve  hours  each  day :  this,  at  ten  cents  each,  would 
\  bring  in,  as  her  share  of  the  week's  earnings,  only  one 
^  dollar  and  forty  cents  !  But  it  is  true,  that  when  more 
j  accustomed  to  the  work,  she  may  make  six  more. 


I  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  75   ( 

!      Clara  had  worked  for  four  shillings  per  day  on  the  | 
j  dresses  of  the  Misses  Simmons  ;  for,  being  only  an  as-  | 
I  sistant,  she  was  told  they  could  not  think  of  giving  her  • 
I  the  full  wages  paid  to  a  regular  dress-maker.     How-  i 
ever,  as  she  felt  that  the  payment  of  it  was  sure,  she  was  j 
J  grateful  even  for  that  much,  and  left  for  home,  with  a  \ 
j  heart  comparatively  at  ease.     It  is  true,  she  had  not  ? 
I  been  paid  as  yet,  but  she  had  not  dared  to  ask  for  it,  for  j 
fear  of  offending  them,  although  her  necessities  loudly 
called  upon  her  to  do  so ;  while  her  lady  employers  were 
too  much  engaged,  in  showing  off  the  new  made  finery 
to  some  very  dear  friends,  who  chanced  to  drop  in  to- 
ward evening,  to  think  of  the  poor  seamstress,  who  had 
toiled  so  hard  for  them,  and  who,  for  aught  they  knew, 
or  cared,  might  actually  suffer  for  the  want  of  the  few 
shillings  they  owed  her. 

But  presuming  that  the  money  from  this  source  will 
certainly  be  paid  on  the  following  Monday,  let  us  see 
how  much  the  family  have  earned  during  the  week. 

Laura,  at  fourteen  hours  per  day,  has  worked  eighty-  \ 
four  hours.  ) 

Clara  and  Mrs.  Elliott,  each  working  twelve  hours  a 

day,  have  toiled  through  seventy-two  hours  each,  making 

in  all,  two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  hours,  and  their 

(  earnings  show  that  they  have  worked  for  two  and  J 

j  three-quarter  cents  per  hour!  i 

'(      Let  those  who  doubt,  make  the  calculation  for  them-  j 

j  selves,  and  let  those  who  deny  the  truth  of  what  is  here  ! 

'  stated,  take  the  same  trouble  as  has  been  taken,  to  ac-  j 

quire  the  proper  information,   and  they  will  find  no  ) 

.^ _-_-.^^« 


I 

4 


76 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


forced  or  unnatural  statement,  nor  will  they  find  that 
imagination  has  had  any  share  in  painting  the  above 


) 


picture. 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  77  \ 


CHAPTER    VIII, 


Let  us  return  now  to  the  family  of  Mr.  Simmons, 
for  they  too  must  perform  their  share  in  pointing  the 
moral  I  hope  to  draw  in  these  pages. 

On  Saturday  evening,  soon  after  Clara  had  left  the 
house,  Mr.  Simmons  returned  home  from  his  store,  and 
entering  the  room  where  the  new  made  dresses  were 
laid  out  for  display,  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  have  been  so  smart, 
girls,  and  have  got  your  things  made  up  so  soon,  for 
you  must  be  ready  to  start  by  Monday  evening,  or 
Tuesday  morning,  at  the  very  utmost." 

"  Why,  dear  pa  V  exclaimed  both  the  daughters  in 
a  breath,  "  you  must  be  crazy.  We  have  just  got  our 
dresses  finished,  and  there  are  a  thousand  things  yet 
to  be  purchased ;  and  then  we  must  pack  up,  and  see 
our  friends.  Oh  !  it  is  impossible — it  is  entirely  out  of 
the  question !"  ^ 

"  Very  well ;  I  have  nothing  to  say  if  it  is  impossi. 
ble.  Only  let  me  tell  you  this :  Mr.  Seabrook,  the 
rich  young  Southerner  who  was  with  us  last  summer, 
came  in  town  this  morning,  on  his  road  to  the  Springs, 


78  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

and  he  called  on  me  to  know  when  I  proposed  starting, 
as  he  said  he  must  go  on  by  Monday  or  Tuesday  at  the 
farthest,  and  was  very  desirous  of  making  one  of  my 
party.     I  have  made  him  promise  to  delay  his  departure  j 
until  Tuesday  morning,  and  told  him  I  would  put  my  ( 
wife  and  daughters  under  his  charge  for  the  journey.  ( 
If  it  is  impossible  to  get  ready  by  that  time,  why  of 
course,  you  will  have  to  wait  until  I  go,  and  I  can't  j 
say  how  long  business  may  detain  me  in  the  city." 

"  Father,  I  declare  you  talk  and  act  almost  foolish- 
ly," said  Euphemia,  in  tones  certainly  not  the  most  af- 
fectionate. "  The  idea  of  engaging  to  have  all  our  pre- 
parations made  at  two  days'  notice  for  a  season  at  the 
Springs  is  preposterous,  and  I  have  a  great  mind  not  to 
go  at  all." 

"  None  of  your  impudence,  Miss  Phemey,"  said  the 
father,  rather  nettled,  "  or  perhaps  I  may  say  you  shall 
not  go  at  all.  All  I  have  to  say  is,  if  you  are  not  ready 
to  go  with  Mr.  Seabrook,  you  lose  the  best  chance  you 
have  ever  had — mark  my  words.  What  is  there  you 
want  which  cannot  be  purchased  on  Monday  ?" 

"  Come,  Phemey,"  said  Maria,  coaxingly,  "  don't  get 
angry.  Let  us  try  our  best.  We  can  purchase  almost 
all  we  want  on  Monday,  and  we  can  get  the  rest  of  the  [ 
things  at  the  Springs.  Mary,  you  know,  can  be  pack- 
ing up  while  we%re  out  shopping,  all  we  don't  pack  up 
to-morrow.  Come,  father,  let  us  have  the  money,  and 
I  promise  we  will  be  ready  on  Tuesday  to  go  off  in  the 
morning  boat." 

The  cloud  called  up  by  the  reply  of  Miss  Euphemia 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  79 

was  dispelled  from  Mr.  Simmons's  brow,  by  this  ready- 
acquiescence  in  his  wishes,  and  he  very  cheerfully  hand- 
ed each  of  his  daughters  a  sum  sufficient  to  purchase  ( 
necessaries  for  a  whole   family  for  a  year,  but  which  ) 
they  were  to  expend  in  showy  useless  finery. 

"There,"  said  Clara,  "consider  it  settled  that  we 
leave  on  Tuesday  morning.  So,  if  you  see  Mr.  Sea- 
brook  again,  you  may  say  we  are  ready.  But  I  sup- 
pose he  will  be  here  to-morrow  ?"  , 

"Yes  ;  I  have  asked  him  to  dinner,"  was  the  reply. 

"  How  could  you  do  that,  Mr.  Simmons,"  said  his 
wife,  with  some  asperity,  "  when  you  know  the  girls 
will  require  the  whole  day  to  fix  and  pack  up,  without 
having  to  leave  off  to  dress  for  dinner  ?  How  could  you 
be  so  thoughtless  ?" 

•  Oh  !  don't  be  finding  so  much  fault.  Such  men  as 
Mr.  Seabrook  are  not  to  be  caught  every  day,  and  I 
was  not  willing  to  lose  so  good  a  chance  for  the  girls 
for  the  sake  of  a  little  inconvenience.  You  must  get 
on  as  well  as  you  can,  for  he  is  invited,  and  will  be  here, 
of  course." 

"  Well,  go  along  now,  pa,  and  leave  us  alone.  We 
have  plenty  to  do,  and  a  very  short  time  to  do  it  in.  I 
incline  very  much  to  the  opinion  that  very  few  ladies 
ever  made  ready  for  a  season  at  the  Springs  in  two 
days." 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Simmons  had  left  the  room,  the  girls 
seated  themselves,  and  entered  into  a  long  argument  as 
to  the  best  use  they  could  make  of  the  money  he  had 
given  them.     It  was  very  difficult  to  decide  what  they 


\ 


80  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

really  did  want ;  but  they  finally  agreed  to  start  out 
on  TVIonday  on  a  shopping  excursion,  without  any  defi- 
nite object  in  view,  but  to  leave  their  purchases  to 
chance. 

On  the  following  morning,  in  utter  forgetfulness — 
and,  indeed,  without  a  single  thought — that  it  was  the 
sabbath,  they  commenced  the  work  of  packing  up,  and 
their  room  soon  presented  the  appearance  of  a  well 
stocked  store,  the  various  articles  of  dress  and  orna- 
ment being  strewed  about  in  luxurious  profusion. 

The  entire  day,  with  the  exception  of  the  time  ne- 
cessary to  dress  for  dinner,  and  the  hours  passed  at  the 
table,  were  devoted  to  the  important  task  of  making  pre- 
parations for  their  journey,  and  evening  closed  upon 
them  jaded,  worried,  and  fatigued. 

On  Monday  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  they  start- 
ed out  on  their  shopping  excursion,  leaving  to  Mary, 
the  maid,  the  task  of  packing  away  the  articles  they 
had  left  out.     While  she  was  thus  engaged,  Clara  El-  ] 
liott  called,  in  pursuance  of  the  directions  given  by  the  ; 
ladies,  for  the  three  dollars  she  had  earned  during  the  \ 
past  week,  and  was  told  the  young  ladies  were  out,  and  \ 
had  left  word  for  her  if  they  did  not  send  it  around  on  | 
Tuesday,  she  was  to  call  on  Wednesday  ;  and  she  said  ! 
this  with  a  full  knowledge  that  they  were  to  leave  town 
j  on  Tuesday. 

When  the  Misses  Simmons  returned  home,  near  the 
hour  for  dinner,  Mary  informed  them  of  Clara's  call, 
and  of  the  unblushing  lie  she  had  told  her,  for  which 
they  applauded  her  ingenuity  amazingly,  remarking 


j  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  81 

(  that  they  had  use  for  all  the  money  their  father  had 
{  given  them,  and  it  was  very  thoughtfully  done  in 
j  Mary. 

j  "  For  my  part,"  said  Euphemia,  "  if  I  had  been  at 
j  home,  I  would  have  told  her  to  wait  until  I  was  ready 
!  to  pay  her.  I  never  heard  any  thing  like  the  impu- 
';  dence  of  some  of  these  sewing  girls.  They  actually 
(  seem  afraid  to  trust  one." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Maria,  "  it  is  just  as  well  as  it 
is.  We  will  pay  her  when  we  come  back  from  the 
Springs ;  and  by  that  time,  perhaps,  she  will  have 
learned  that  it  is  not  best  to  dun  too  soon." 

I  am  sure  the  reader  can  have,  or  feel  no  particular 
)  interest  in  these  heartless  worldly  girls,  so  I  will  men^ 
)  tion,  as  briefly  as  possible,  that,  by  dint  of  great  exer-  \ 
\  tion,  and  with  no  little  loss  of  patience  and  temper,  they  i 
^f  managed  to  be  in  readiness  to  start  for  the  Springs  on 
i  the  Tuesday  morning,  chaperoned  by  Mr.  Seabrook, 
the  wealthy  Southerner,  who  was  destined  to  be  the 
husband  of  one  of  them ;  and  it  was  settled  between 
them  amicably  that  whoever  should  succeed  in  securing 
him  was  to  be  the  happy  bride,  no  matter  which  one 
was  to  be  the  holder  of  this  grand  matrimonial  prize — 
and  the  unsuccessful  one  was  pledged  not  to  feel  ag- 
grieved. 

Mrs.  Elliott  on  Saturday  evening  had  carried  her 
work  home,  and  received  her  week's  earnings,  amount- 
ing to  the  sum  of  one  dollar  and  forty  centSy  while 
Laura,  having  two  weeks  due  at  the  store  of  Mr.  Sim- 
mons, received  three  dollars  and  one  shilling,  together  ( 


^^5- 


..^._ -....-.. — V^^^-^- 


82 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


with  another  bundle  of  vests  to  be  made  up  at  the  same 
price. 

Mrs.  Elliott  was  not  so  fortunate  in  procuring  more 
work,  but  was  required  to  return  on  Monday  morning 
early,  by  which  time  more  would  be  cut  out  for  her. 
She  did  go,  and  received  with  her  large  bundle  a  gen- 
tle hint,  that,  unless  more  care  was  bestowed  upon 
those  than  on  the  last,  her  employer  would  feel  com- 
pelled to  cut  her  down  to  eight  cents. 

When  she  had  reached  home,  Clara  had  just  returned 
from  her  unsuccessful  visit  to  the  Misses  Simmons, 
and  her  eyes  were  yet  red  with  the  tears  of  bitter  dis- 
appointment which  she  could  not  repress. 

"  What,  Clara,"  she  exclaimed,  as  her  daughter  en- 
tered the  room,  "  tears  again  ?  Have  you  been  dis- 
appointed by  the  Misses  Simmons  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  have.  I  did  \ 
certainly  expect  when  I  had  earned  my  miserable  \ 
wages  with  such  hard  labor,  I  should  have  no  difficulty  \ 
in  being  promptly  paid  by  them  ;  but  now  I  am  put  off  \ 
until  Wednesday."  \ 

''  Only  till  Wednesday  ?  I  am  sure  that  is  not  worth 
crying  about.  Come,  come,  dear,  don't  give  way  so 
easily  under  these  trifling  disappointments." 

"  Well,  I  won't — there  !"  said  Clara,  actually  dash- 
ing away  the  tears  which  had  again  forced  themselves 
to  her  eyes  ;  "  I  won't  cry  again  for  any  of  them.  I 
have  done  dress-making.  My  capital  is  not  extensive 
enough  for  me  to  give  such  long  credit,  so  I  will  help  , 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


you  on  some  shirts,  and  try  to  earn  something  toward 
our  common  livelihood." 

"  I  don't  see  but  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do," 
said  her  mother,  sadly.  "  You  have  worked  unceas- 
ingly now  for  two  weeks,  and  I  do  not  see  that  you  are 
ever  likely  to  get  any  thing  for  it.  I  have  no  idea  the 
Misses  Simmons  will  ever  pay  you." 

"  Why,  you  don't  surely  think  they  would  cheat 
me  ?"  asked  Clara,  eagerly. 

"  Not  exactly  that,  my  dear ;  but  the  sum  is  so  small, 
they  can  never  be  brought  to  think  that  you  really  stand 
in  need  of  it ;  and,  through  very  heedlessness,  they  will 
find  a  hundred  modes  of  putting  you  off.  I  hope  I  am 
wrong,  but  I  fear " 

"  Well — I  will  give  up  the  idea  of  ever  getting  that, 
too,  but  no  more  dress-making  for  me  ;  so  give  me  one 
of  your  shirts,  and  I  will  try  what  I  can  earn  by  making 
shirts  at  ten  cents  a  piece  ;  that,  I  believe,  is  what  you 
get?" 

Before  they  seated  themselves  again  at  work,  Mrs. 
Elliott  undertook  to  make  a  calculation  of  their  proba- 
ble income  and  expenses.     Let  us  follow  her. 

Thus  far,  that  is  in  two  weeks,  the  sum  total  of  their 
earnings  received — for  Mrs.  Elliott  had  worked  only 
one  week — was  four  dollars  and  fifty -two  cents. 

The  rent  of  the  two  rooms  they  occupied  was  two 
dollars  per  week,  and  they  had  in  this  time  made  just 
fifty-two  cents  over  and  above  the  amount  of  rent,  which 
was  payable  monthly. 

This  was  certainly  not  a  very  pleasant  picture,  but 


84  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


then  allowances  must  be  made  for  one  week  of  idleness  to 
Mrs.  Elliott,  and  two  weeks  dead  loss  to  Clara.  So  let  us 
see  what  the  next  two  weeks  will  produce.  Allowing 
that  Clara  could  and  would  earn  as  much  at  making 
shirts  as  Mrs.  Elliott,  their  joint  earnings  for  the  week 
would  amount  to  two  dollars  and  eighty  cents,  or  allow- 
ing that  each  could  make  one  additional  shirt,  three 
dollars, 

Laura  earned  one  dollar  and  seven  shillings,  and  the 
whole  amount  of  earnings  for  the  week  would  amount 
to  four  dollars  and  seven  shillings — for  the  two  weeks, 
nine  dollars  and  six  shillings  :  out  of  this  the  rent  would 
take  four  dollars,  leaving  five  dollars  and  six  shillings 
for  fuel,  raiment,  food  and  necessaries  for  the  whole 
three  for  the  two  weeks.  This  was  cheerless  enough  in 
truth,  but  still  it  might  be  borne ;  and  with  a  full  de- 
termination to  hope  for  the  best,  they  commenced  their 
daily  task. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  Clara 
j  hastened  to  Call  at  Mr.  Simmons's  residence,  in  the  full 
j  confidence  that  she  would  find  her  money  ready  for  her ; 
j  but  her  surprise  was  almost  too  great  for  expression, 
■  when  sh6  saw  that  the  house  was  closed,  and  evidently 
for  the  summer.     She  rang  at  the  bell,  however,  to  be 
certain,  and  had  performed  this  useless  operation  some 
i  half  dozen  times,  when  a  servant  in  the  adjoining  house 
j  informed  her  that  she  might  ring  until  dooms-day,  be- 
fore any  one  answered  in  that  house,  as  the  family  had 
\  started  for  the  country  on  Tuesday  morning. 
\      "  Are  you  sure  they  went  on  Tuesday  ?"  inquired 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  85 

Clara,  who  had  not  forgotten  what  Mary,  the  maid,  had 
told  her. 

"  Sure  ?     To  be  sure  I  am  :  didn't  I  see  them  go  off  | 
before  seven  o'clock,  bag  and  baggage?" 

"  Then  that  girl  told  me  a  wilful  lie,"  she  could  not 
help  exclaiming. 

"  Maybe  it's  Mr.  Simmons  you  want  ?  He  ainH  gone 
to  the  country,  I  know,  for  I  saw  him  at  the  house  in 
the  afternoon.  You'll  find  him  at  his  store,  I  guess, 
though  he  don't  live  at  home  when  his  family  is 
away." 

Clara  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then  determined  to  go 
at  once  and  see  Mr.  Simmons  at  his  store,  feeling  sure 
that,  when  he  was  made  acquainted  with  her  circum- 
stances and  necessities,  he  would  not  refuse  to  pay  this 
trifling  sum  for  his  daughters,  and  that,  too,  after  it  had 
been  so  faithfully  earned. 

She  proceeded  at  once  to  the  store,  where  she  was 
shown  into  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Simmons,  and  to 
him  she  opened  the  nature  of  her  business,  but  with 
much  confusion  and  hesitation,  for  it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  ever  been  compelled  to  apply  for  money  to  a 
gentleman. 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  all  correct,"  said  that  worthy  and 
humane  gentleman ;  "  but  I  can  really  do  nothing  until 
my  girls  come  back.  They  will  return  in  three  months 
at  the  farthest,  and  then  you  will  receive  your 
money." 

"  But,  sir,"  she  urged,  *^  although  it  is  a  very  small  I 
yum  to  you,  it  is  really  of  consequence  to  me,  and  I  J 


86  THE    ELLIOTT    FABIILY. 

should  feel  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  let  me  have  it 
now,  and  not  compel  me  to  wait  three  whole  months." 

"  I  can  see  no  possible  objection,  Miss,  except  that 
it  would  be  breaking  through  the  rules  by  which  I  con- 
duct my  business,  never  to  pay  a  bill,  large  or  small, 
until  I  have  ascertained  its  correctness.  Now  I  do  not 
doubt  your  word  at  all,  but  as  for  paying  the  bill,  I 
could  not  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  I  am  sure  three 
months  is  not  such  a  very  long  time  to  wait." 

"  To  me,  sir,  it  is  an  age.  But  if  I  have  your  an- 
swer, I  need  to  say  no  more.     Good  day,  sir." 

Mr.  Simmons  returned  her  salutation  with  the  greatest 
conceivable  stiffness,  and,  as  soon  as  she  had  left  the 
office,  he  summoned  his  foreman. 

"  James,  do  you  give  out  work  to  a  Miss  Elliott  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was,  of  course,  the  reply. 

"  You  will  give  her  no  more.     That's  all." 

James  was  too  good  a  disciplinarian  to  inquire  into 
reasons  for  any  orders  he  received,  but  he  retired  in 
silence,  wondering  for  a  moment  what  could  have 
caused  Mr.  Simmons  to  take  such  a  kink  into  his  head. 
He  made  a  memoranda,  however,  of  the  order,  and,  in 
five  minutes  afterward,  the  whole  subject  had  passed 
from  his  memory. 

Clara  returned  home,  and  narrated  the  occurrences  ( 

of  the  morning,  without  shedding  a  tear.     Her  pride  ( 

!  was  now  aroused,  and  she  was  determined  that  she 

should  not  give  way  to  the  weakness  which  only  ren-  j 

dered  her  more  wretched.  '  | 

/       "  Well,"  she  said,  "  there  is  an  end  for  good  of  my  j 


/ 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


87 


dress-making.     Two  weeks  of  ceaseless  toil  for  nothing. 
No  matter — let  it  go.     *  Brighter  hours  will  come,' ''  ; 
she  added,  forcing  a  smile  to  her  face,  while  her  heart 
was  fiercely  aching  with  disappointment.  ; 


I  88  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


The  care-worn,  struggling  family,  have  as  yet  only 
tasted  the  cup  of  bitterness.  The  dregs  remain  to  be 
quaffed,  and  the  draught  is  not  to  be  avoided  much 
longer. 

On  Thursday  morning,  while  the  girls  were  clearing 
away  the  breakfast-table,  Mrs.  Elliott,  who  was  seated 
at  her  work  by  the  window,  suddenly  uttered  a  deep 
groan,  and  fell  from  her  chair  to  the  floor,  in  a  state  of 
insensibility.  They  ran  to  raise  her  up,  and  laid  her  | 
on  the  bed,  while  Clara,  without  pausing  to  care  for  or 
think  of  anything  but  her  dear,  suffering  mother, 
snatched  up  her  hood,  which  was  lying  on  a  chair, 
and  ran  out  for  a  physician. 

Just  as  she  turned  the  corner,  she  saw  a  gentleman  in 
a  one-horse  carriage,  and  taking  it  for  granted  he  must 
be  a  physician,  she  ran  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  so 
hastily,  that  he  had  to  turn  his  horse  to  avoid  running 
over  her. 

"  Oh,  sir,  are  you  a  doctor?"  she  asked,  in  eager, 
hurried  tones. 

"  Yes  ;  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Quick,  quick — my  poor  mother !"  was  all  she  could  \ 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  89 

!  say,  but  it  was  enough  for  him  who  heard  her,  for  he  at 
,'  once  drove  his  horse  to  the  sidewalk,  and  leaving  him 
there  in  care  of  a  boy,  followed  Clara  into  the  house. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  Mrs.  Elliott,  he  shook  his  head 
j  despondingly,  and  that  motion  conveyed  the  intelligence 
)  in  language  not  to  be  misunderstood — there  was  no  hope 
!  for  the  dear  mother. 

"  Oh,  dear  doctor,"  exclaimed  Laura,  who  was  seated 
on  the  bed,  holding  her  mother's  drooping  head,  "  do 
save  her  to  us.  We  are  not  rich,  but  we  will  work  for 
you  and  pay  you ;  only  save  her." 

"My  dear  young  ladies,  I  cannot  encourage  you. 
Your  mother  may  live  some  time  longer,  but  she  will  be 
utterly  helpless.     She  has  had  a  paralytic  stroke." 

"Oh  God,  have  mercy  on  us T"  exclaimed  Clara, 
clasping  her  hands  ;  "what  will  become  of  us?" 

"  Do  not  grieve  so ;  I  will  do  all  that  can  be  done  for 
your  mother,"  said  the  kind-hearted  physician,  "  but  I 
can  give  you  no  hope.     Let  me  get  near  her,"  added 
he,  and  he  proceeded  to  examine  the  unfortunate  suf-  J 
ferer.     Another  and  more  distinct  shake  of  the  head,  < 
announced  the  result  of  this  examination,  and  writing  a 
prescription,  he  gave  it  to  Laura,  leaving  also  ample 
directions  how  she  was  to  be  attended  to  until  he  saw  \ 
her  again.  j 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  came  again,  and 
found  Mrs.  Elliott  as  he  had  left  her — senseless  and  im- 
movable. She  was  certainly,  though  slowly,  sinking, 
and  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  tell  the  trutn  to  the  weeping 
girls. 


90  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  ( 

"  It  is  better,"  he  said ;  "  she  could  only  lie  here 
senseless  and  inanimate.  It  would  be  a  living  death, 
in  fact ;  but  she  will  soon  be  at  rest.  There  is  no  use 
in  my  prescribing  any  more  for  her  now.  I  will  call 
again  in  the  morning." 

On  the  following  morning  he  called,  according  to 
promise,  but  there  was  no  alteration  which  would  per- 
mit him  to  encourage  the  weeping,  desponding  daugh- 
ters. However,  he  gave  minute  directions  for  every- 
thing which  could  tend  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the 
helpless  woman,  and  then  left,  with  the  promise  of  re- 
peating his  visit  daily,  although  perfectly  conscious  that 
he  could  render  no  possible  service. 

And  now  commenced  the  sorest  trial  they  had  yet 
been  called  on  to  endure.     Their  dearly  beloved  mother 
lay  before  them  in  helpless  suffering,  and  all  their  at- 
tention and  time  were  required  and  cheerfully  devoted 
j  to  her.      Occasionally,  when  she  would  seem  to  have 
dropped  into  a  quiet  sleep,  they  would  take  up  their 
!  work,  and  seating  themselves  by  her  bedside,  sewed  on 
it  until  the  tears,  which  they  could  not  suppress,  blind- 
j  ed  their  eyes,  or  until  some  sound  or  motion  of  the  suf- 
}  ferer  demanded  their  attention. 

[  It  was  impossible,  under  these  circumstances,  that 
J  they  could  earn  anything,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
j  week,  it  became  absolutely  necessary  that  money 
J  should  be  raised,  as  well  to  pay  the  rent  of  their  apart- 
i  ments,  as  to  purchase  necessaries  for  themselves,  and 
(  medicines  for  their  beloved  parent. 
;       The  few  articles  of  jewelry  which  fhey  had  collect-  | 


I  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  91 

ed  in  happier  days,  were  freely  sacrificed,  and  Clara 
took  them  to  a  pawn-broker's,  receiving  for  them  a  sum 
approximating  to  the  fourth  part  of  their  actual  value, 
and  which  was  barely  sufficient  to  meet  the  demands 
of  the  landlord. 

Such  articles  of  wearing  apparel  as  could  be  most 
conveniently  dispensed  with,  followed  the  jev/elry,  but 
they  were  given  up  without  a  sigh,  for  it  was  to  add  to 
the  comfort  of  their  suffering  parent. 

For  four  weary  weeks  Mrs.  Elliott  lingered,  watched 
daily  with  the  most  untiring  fidelity  by  her  loving  chil- 
dren, who,  in  their  sorrow  for  her  sufferings,  forgot  all 
they  were  called  on  to  undergo,  and  cheered  by  the 
hope  which  at  times  they  would  entertain,  that  she 
might  yet  be  restored  to  them. 

At  length  the  summons  went  forth,  and  Mrs.  Elliott 
was  gathered  to  the  dust  from  whence  she  sprang, 
without  having  been  able  to  utter  one  word  of  comfort, 
or  to  bestow  her  blessing  upon  her  devoted  children. 

It  would  be  a  thankless  task  to  attempt  to  portray  a 
grief  so  sacred  as  that  which  fills  the  hearts  of  affec- 
tionate children,  when  relentless  death  has  robbed  them 
of  the  dearly  loved  parent,  and  that  parent  too  their 
only  earthly  stay  and  comfort.  None  can  truly  sym- 
pathise with  them  in  such  afflictions,  but  those  who 
have  been  called  to  mourn  a  similar  loss,  and  to  such 
I  need  not  address  a  single  word. 

The  change  which  this  sad  and  sudden  bereavement 
wrought  in  the  condition  and  prospects  of  the  unhappy 
orphans  was  great,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  too  strong  a 


92  'IRE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

term  to  use,  to  call  it  terrible.  They  were  bj  this 
unlocked  for  dispensation,  left  alone  in  the  world,  with-  \ 
out  one  single  friend  to  console  or  aid  them.  They 
were  young,  and  comparatively  inexperienced ;  for 
having  never  been  thrown  in  contact  with  that  cheer- 
less,  soulless  world,  they  were  consequently  unac- 
quainted with  most  of  its  trials,  its  temptations,  and  as 
yet,  but  few  of  its  harrowing  disappointments  had  they 
been  called  on  to  experience. 

They  mourned  the  lost  friend  and  parent,  as  the  : 
children  of  such  a  parent  would  and  ever  must  mourn,  \ 
but  their  circumstances  called  upon  them  for  great  j 
exertions,  and  they  prayed  for  strength  that  they  might  | 
make  theiii.  They  could  not  afford  to  indulge  in  symbols  j 
of  exterior  mourning  for  their  beloved  parent,  but  they  { 
commenced  at  once  laying  their  plans  for  future  usefuUj 
ness  to  themselves.   Each  felt  that  necessity  loudly  called  \\ 
upon  them  for  redoubled  exertions,  and  although  the  pros-  i   ] 
pect  even  with  these  efforts  was  dark  and  dreary,  without  j  / 
one  single  ray  of  hope  to  cheer  the  future,  they  deter.  * 
mined  to  make  them,  trusting  in  God  for  help. 

Their  first  step  was  to  complete  the  work  which  their 
mother  had  taken  from  the  shirt  store,  but  when  finish-  , 
ed,  neither  of  them  knew  where  she  had  obtained  it.  ; 
They  had  not  considered  it  worth  their  while  to  inquire 
previous  to  this  sad  event,  and  indeed  each  had  been  too 
much  engrossed  with  their  own  tasks  to  think  of  it  at  , 
all.  \ 

This  was  a  most  awkward  dilemma,  and  they  felt  ; 
tiiat  this  ignorance  might  expose  them  to  unjust  aud 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  93 


I  cruel  suspicions:  for  the  poor  are  almost  always  ob- 
;  jects  of  suspicion.  What  to  do  they  knew  not.  Two 
j  weeks  had  already  elapsed  since  their  mother's  death, 
)  and  they  had  vainly  sought  to  find  some  clue  which 
J  would  enable  them  to  deliver  the  shirts  to  the  rightful 
)  owner.  Chance,  however,  relieved  them  in  this  diffi- 
i  culty,  and  the  sum  they  received  for  their  work, 
(  enabled  them  to  purchase  a  few  necessary  articles,  of 
which  they  had  been  long  deprived,  and  of  which  they 
stood  sadly  in  need. 

Laura  finished  the  vests,  and  took  them  to  Mr.  Sim- 
mons's  store,  intending  to  obtain  double  the  number,  in 
order  that  Clara  too  might  work  with  her,  as  they  con- 
cluded they  could  earn  as  much  while  working  on  them, 
as  on  any  other  branch  of  sewing. 

The  foreman  took  her  bundle,  and  asking  for  her  pass- 
book, made  the  usual  entry,  which  done,  to  her  surprise, 
he  handed  her  the  amount  due  for  them,  and  was  turn- 
ing away,  when  she  addressed  him,  saying  : 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  should  like  to  have  a  dozen  in- 
stead of  six,  as  my  sister  works  on  them  with  me." 

"  We  have  no  more  to  give  out,"  replied  the  young 
man,  in  obedience  to  the  orders  he  had  received  from 
Mr.  Simmons. 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  said  Laura,  thinking  that  he  refused 
to  give  her  more  work  because  she  had  so  long  delay- 
ed bringing  these  home — "  I  hope,  sir,  it  is  not  because 
I  have  not  brought  the  present  work  home  sooner.  In- 
deed I  could  not  help  it,  for  since  I  took  them  out,  we 


94  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


-^ 


; 


have  lost  our  poor  mother.     That  has  caused  the  delay, 
sir,  but  I  assure  you  it  shall  not  occur  again." 

"  We  have  no  more  work  to  give  out,  miss,"  was  the 
reply,  but  uttered  with  something  like  civility ;  for  the 
foreman  could  not  avoid  seeing  that  Laura's  hat  was 
trimmed  in  deep  mourning,  (the  only  exterior  sign  of 
her  loss  she  could  afford,)  and  that  tears  filled  her  eyes 
as  she  spoke  of  her  bereavement. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Simmons,"  meekly  asked 
Laura,  nothing  doubting  that  there  was  some  misunder- 
standing. "  I  am  sure  if  he  knew  how  we  are  situated, 
he  would  not  refuse  to  give  us  work." 

"  It  is  not  because  you  have  delayed  bringing  these 

home,"  said  the  foreman,  "  but "  and  he  hesitated. 

"  Well,  sir,  and  why  do  you  refuse  me  ?  Does  not 
the  work  suit  you  ?  I  am  sure  I  have  done  my  best." 
"Oh  no,  not  at  all;  but  the  truth  is,"  and  the  fore- 
man looked  actually  ashamed  as  he  spoke,  for  he  had 
some  remnant  of  humanity  in  him,  "  Mr.  Simmons  left 
orders  with  me  to  give  you  no  more  work,  and  I  have 
\  no  course  but  to  obey." 

I      "  I  cannot   possibly  believe  that,"  replied   Laura, 
/  quickly  ;  "  I  will  see  Mr.  Simmons  himself." 
/       "  That  you  cannot  do,  unless  you  go  to  Saratoga,  for 
\  he  left  the  city  yesterday." 

j  *'  Good  Heaven  !  what  shall  I  do  ?"  exclaimed  she, 
in  accents  of  despair.  "  Why  can  he  have  given  such 
an  order  ?  I  will  not  of  course  ask  you  to  disobey  him, 
but  can  you  recommend  me  to  any  other  place  where  I 
may  obtain  work  ?" 


) 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  95 

s       "  I  cannot,  indeed,"  said  the  foreman,  emboldened  by 

i  the  certainty  that  Laura  was  really  distressed,  and  not 

\  knowing  how  far  he  might  venture  with  her  in  that  state 

!  of  feeling.     But  in  a  moment  after,  he  added:  **I  do 

not  mind  taking  the  risk  of  letting  you  have  work  in 

some  other  manner,  on  one  condition,"  and  he  leered  at 

her  with  a  look  which  could  have  but  one  meaning. 

The  honest  blood  mounted  to  the  neck,  and  cheek  and 
brow  of  the  insulted  girl,  and  the  veins  fairly  swelled  j 
j  on  her  forehead,  as  she  gazed  upon  him  for  a  single 
instant,  but  with  a  look  of  such  withering  contempt, 
that  the  miserable  creature  actually  quailed  beneath  it, 
)  and  shrank  abashed  within  his  debased  self. 
j       "  Oh,  well,  you  need  not  make  such  a  time  about  it," 
he  added,  quickly,  his  face  crimsoned  with  shame,  but 
)  not  daring  to  look  at  her.     "  The  time  may  come  when         v 
)  you  will  be  glad  to  remember  my  offer.     I  have  no  5  ^ 
)  work  to  give  you  now." 

J  "  I  would  starve  before  I  would  accept  it  from  your 
;  hands,"  proudly  replied  the  insulted  girl,  turning  to 
'  leave  the  store,  as  she  thought,  unnoticed.  j 

!       I  say,  as  she  thought ;  but  one  person,  whom  she  had  T\ 
[  not  seen,  had  noticed  her,  and  had  overheard  sufficient  '    ^ 
i  of  what  had  fallen  from  her  lips,  to  judge  of  the  nature  i 
)  of  his  conversation,  and  she  felt  proud  of  her  sex,  as  she  j 
{  saw  the  outraged  and  indignant  girl  turn  to  leave  the  ) 
\  store.  J'"* 

j  This  person  was^a^.youBg-.la^y,  Miss  Eva  BeHamy,  ^ 
j  who  had  called  at  the  store  to  make  interest  for  a  young  j 
;  girl  who  had  been  discharged,  or  rather  to  whom  work 


j  96  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

j  had  been  also  refused,  because  she  was  delicate  and  \ 
{  sickly,  and  was  often  more  tardy  in  returning  her  work 
than  was  agreeable  to  the  foreman. 

She  had  been  shown  into  the  private  office  attached  to 
the  store,  and  having  been  interrupted  in  the  business 
which  brought  her  there,  by  the  entrance  of  Laura,  , 
had  remained  an  anxious  and  attentive  listener  of  their  | 
conversation,  and  hei:  heaxtJS:Hr^ledJivith  virt^ious  in- 
dignation^as-she-heard  the  _proud  reply  of  the  insulted 
and  outraged  girl. 
j^^  Miss  Bellamy,  though  young,  was  an  ardent,  warm- 
j  /hearted  philanthropist,  and  as  a  member  of  the  Christian 
church,  the  duties  of  which  she  discharged  with  the 
most  zealous  fidelity,  she  was  necessarily  often  thrown  in 
\contact  with  poverty  and  distress,  in  almost  every  shape 
HI  which  they  are  presented  in  this  great  metropolis. 
Her  heart  was  filled  with  tender  sympathy  for  the  suf- 
ferings and  oppression  of  her  sex,  and  although  her 
)  own  means  were  comparatively  limited,  she  found  and 
i  embraced  more  opportunities  of  doing  good,  and  bestow- 
f  ing  happiness  and  pleasure,  than  thousands  who  were 
\  more  fortunately  circumstanced,  in  point  of  pecuniary 
)  ability. 

•  The  reader  can  care  but  little  to  know  the  personal 
\  appearance  of  Miss  Bellamy,  and  indeed  that  was  not 
I  sufficiently  striking  to  command  especial  notice.  But  her 
J  choicest  treasure  was  in  a  mind,  richly  stored  with  every 
;  good  and  virtuous  feeling  which  could  adorn  the  wear- 
er, and  confer  happiness  and  joy  on  all  who  came  within 
\  the  sphere  of  its  generous,  sympathizing  influence.   She 


(' 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


97 


was  not  formed  to  attract  the  gaze  or  admiration  of 
every  beholder,  'and  indeed  none  could  properly  form 
any  estimate  of  Eva's  qualities,  without  having  come 
within  the  influence  of  her  pure  and  lovely  mind. 

As  Laura  turned  to  leave  the  store,  Eva  involunta- 
rily rose,  and  was  moving  toward  the  door,  with  the  same 
intention,  when  the  foreman,  again  all  politeness  and 
fawning,  begged  her  to  be  re-seated,  assuring  her  that, 
now  that  troublesome  girl  was  gone,  he  would  attend  to 
her  with  great  pleasure,  and  if  it  was  in  his  power,  he 
would  do  anything  to  serve  her. 

Eva  restrained  the  bitter,  cutting  remarks  which  her 
heart  prompted,  and  apologizing  for  the  necessity  which 
compelled  her  to  postpone  to  a  more  distant  season  the 
transaction  of  her  own  business,  hurried  out  after 
Laura. 

Laura  had  only  proceeded  two  or  three  squares,  when 
feeling  her  arm  touched  gently,  she  turned  suddenly 
round,  thinking  it  was  the  insolent  foreman,  but  her  coun- 
tenance immediately  changed,  when  she  perceived  that  it 
v/as  one  of  her  own  sex,  and  one  too,  whose  appearance 
bore  the  impress  of  peace,  and  truth,  and  virtue. 

^'  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  said  Eva,  "  but  I  over- 
heard your  remarks  to  that  insulting  villain  in  Mr. 
Simmons's  store,  and  while  I  feel  a  pride  in  the  just 
rebuke  you  administered  to  him,  I  would  gladly  make 
an  effort  to  avert  the  consequences  which  may  be  en- 
tailed upon  you.     Can  I  do  anything  to  serve  you?" 

There  was  an  air  of  such  open  frankness,  such 
oandor,    such    sincerity,    in   the    countenance    of  the 


t 


V 


98  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

youthful  speaker,  Laura  could  not  doubt  her,  and 
without  hesitation,  she  replied,  as  she  wiped  the  tears 
from  her  eyes : 

"  In  truth  it  has  made  me  very  unhappy.  We  are  now 
so  situated,  that  if  we  are  deprived  of  work  for  any 
length  of  time,  the  consequences  must  be  serious.  1 
do  not  know  how  far  you  can  serve  me,  unless  indeed, 
you  can  inform  me  where  I  may  obtain  work."  S 

"  Well,  I  think  I  can  do  that,"  said  Eva.      "  There  ) 
is  no  knowing,  without   trying,  how  much  one  can 
d67^ -— --  -  ---- I 

"  I  shall  be  but  too  grateful  for  the  assistance  of  any  ) 
person  now.  I  feel  so  lost  and  disheartened,  I  know  not  i 
which  way  to  turn." 

"  May  I  intrude  myself  so  far  upon  you,  as  to  ask  ) 
leave  to  accompany  you  to  your  home  ?  I  can  advise  ^ 
better  with  you  there."  ) 

"  Most  certainly,  and  I  shall  be  thankful  too.  We  ( 
need  a  friend  now  more  than  ever  before."  S 

There  was  something  so  winning,  so  attractive,  in  ^ 
Eva  Bellamy's  manner,  something  so  natural,  as  if  j 
every  word  of  kindness  came  fresh  from  a  heart  over-  1 
\  j  flowing  with  it,  she  insensibly  gained  Laura's  confi-  f 
dence,  and  before  they  reached  her  home,  Eva  was  \ 
'  partially  acquainted  with  the  history  of  the  orphans,  J 
sufficiently  so  at  least  to  feel  a  deep  interest  in  their  ( 
i  future  career.  \ 

I  When  she  entered  their  room,  the  air  of  neatness  ] 
^'  which  pervaded  everything,  in  spite  of  the  poverty  |> 
S  which  was  too  apparent  to  be  concealed,  attracted  her  ( 


5  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  99 

1 1  attention,  and  she  sighed  as  she  thought  how  sure  it  was 
that  a  change  naust  ere  long  come  over  them. 

"  Here,  Clara,"  said  Laura  to  her  sister,  as  she  en- 
tered the  apartment,  followed  by  Eva,  "is  a  young 
lady — I  almost  ^feeL  like  calling  her  an  angel — -who 
has  been  very  kind  to  me,'^ 

Clara  looked  at  Eva  for  an  instant,  with  some  appear- 
ance of  hesitation,  but  saw  nothing  to  excite  alarm  or 
distrust.  She  then  advanced,  giving  her  hand  frankly, 
and  saying : 

"I  am  sure  I  shall  be  pleased  to  know  you." 
Clara  heard  with  deep  emotion  the  result  of  her  sis- 
ter's visit  to  Mr.  Simmons's  store,  and  as  she  concluded 
her  recital,  she  said,  with  a  sigh : 

"  I  am  afraid,  Laura,  this  is  all  my  work." 
"  Your  work,  dear  sister — how  can  that  be  ?" 
"  Nothing  more  easy.  I  went  to  Mr.  Simmons's 
\  store  on  the  day  I  heard  his  family  had  left  for  the 
j  Springs,  and  was  foolish  enough  to  ask  him  for  pay- 
(  ment  of  the  small  sum  his  daughters  owed  me.  Doubt- 
j  less  I  oifended  him,  and  hence  the  orders  to  give  you 
I  no  more  work." 

{  "  Oh  do  not  let  that  annoy  you,"  exclaimed  Miss 
!  Bellamy.  "  Mr.  Simmons  is  very  cruel  in  some  res- 
l  pects  to  those  in  his  employ,  though  I  believe  he  always 
i  pays  them  promptly,  and  I  have  no  doubt,  in  a  momen- 
\  tary  fit  of  ill-humor,  he  did  give  those  orders.  When 
{  you,  miss,"  she  said,  turning  to  Laura,  "came  into  the 
)  store  to-day,  I  had  just  arrived  there  also,  for  the  pur- 
(  pose  of  interceding  for  a  poor  young  girl,  who  had 


r  100  THE    ELLIOTT     FAMILY. 

worked  herself  sick  in  his  employ,  and  because  while  j 
sick   she  had  not  returned  some  work  as  soon  as  he  ( 
thought  she  ought  to  have  done,   he   discharged  her.  ( 
However,  now,  I  would  not  go  back  there  again  on  any  ( 
account.     But  come,  never  mind  Mr.  Simmons  ;  let  us  ■ 
'  think  of  some  one  else.     I  think  I  know  a  place  where  ( 
j  I  can  get  you  work,  though  not  so  good,  nor  perhaps  so  < 
\  profitable  as  this  you  have  had."  ( 

S       "  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Clara,  turning  to  Laura,  as  ( 
i  if  she  had  not  heard  what  Eva  had  said,  "  I  have  a  mind 
!  to  be  independent  for  once,  and  give  Mr.  Simmons  a 
I  little  of  my  mind." 

I       "  How  would  you  do  that  ?"  inquired  Laura. 

i       "  Why,  he  has  gone  to  the  Springs,  I  understand,  I 

where  his  wife  and  daughters  are,  and  I  have  a  mind  \ 

to  send  him  my  bill  for  making  his  daughters'  dresses,  * 

(  receipted."  #  j 

!      Miss    Bellamy    had    listened    attentively   to   what  ( 

(  Clara  had   said,   and  a  flush  came  to  her   face,   as  ( 

j  she  said  :  ^ 

j       "  Will  you  pardon  a  stranger  for  interfering  at  all,  but  j 

really  I  think  that  would  be  in  very  bad  taste,  to  say  ( 

nothing   worse.       You    may    have    formed    a    wrong  , 

j  opinion  in   regard  to    Mr.   Simmons,  as    you   do  not  j 

know  the  reason  of  his  refusing  work  to  your  sister,  j 

although,  as  I  before  said,  I  do  not  doubt  he  did  give  ) 

such  orders,  and  you  may  thus  oifend  a  gentleman  ', 

who  certainly  has  it  in  his  power  to  serve  you."  ! 

Clara  looked  confused  as  this  well-merited  rebuke  | 

was  administered,  in  mild  and  gentle  tones,  and  at  first  j 


I 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  101 

[  she  thought  of  being  offended,  but  that  passed  off  in  an 
j  instant,  and  she  replied  quickly  : 

j       "  You  are  right,  miss,  and  I  was  wrong.     I  will  do 
;  no  such  foolish  act.     Those  three  dollars  may  be  very 
i  acceptable  in  time  to  come,  and  besides  insulting  Mr.  j 
5  Simmons,  I  should  be  doing  an  injury  to  myself." 
1      "  Come,  young  ladies,"  said  Miss  Bellamy,  "I  am  a 
stranger  to  you,  but  believe  me,  not  entirely  uninterest- 
ed.    From  the  moment  Miss  Laura  there,  answered  so 
readily  the  insult  of  the  contemptible  fop  at  Mr.  Sim- 
mons's  store,  I  saw  trouble  brewing,  and  as  I  am  used 
to  similar  occurrences,  I  thought  I  might  prove  ser- 
viceable to  you.     If  it  is  not  taking  too  great  a  liberty, 
may  I  ask  if  you  depend  entirely  on  your  needles  for 
{  support  ?" 

j      "  Entirely,"  was  the  reply. 

5  "  Then  I  am  sure  you  will  not  refuse  to'  nflo^v  me  to 
search  for  work  for  you.  I  know  you  cannot  afford  to 
be  idle,  and  I  think  I  know  a  gentl^maxi  who  will  not 
refuse  me  any  reasonable  request.  I  will,  therefore, 
endeavor  to  procure  work  from  him,  but  mind  you,  it 
is  much  more  difficult  and  not  so  well  paid  for  either, 
as  the  vests." 
I  "  We  must  not  stop  to  choose  now,"  said  Clara,  *'  but 
j  will  be  thankful  for  anything.  This  is  a  hard  blow  so 
soon  after  our  late  bereavement- "  and  without  finish- 
ing the  sentence,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Eva,  rising,  "  for  intruding  upon 
your  grief — I  will  retire." 
)      "Oh  no,  no,"  exclaimed  Laura.      "  We  have  not  a  ' 


y 


102  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  ) 

friend  in  the  wide  world ;  do  not  leave  us  now  that  we  | 
need  one  more  than  ever."  I 

Eva  reseated  herself,  and  learned  briefly  from  Laura  ( 
a  history  of  the  circumstances  which  had  so  reduced  \ 
them,  and  every  warm  feeling  of  her  kind  and  generous  ( 
heart  was  aroused  in  behalf  of  the  bereaved  orphans,  j 
'  I  must  go  now  and  see  Mr.  Oatman.  He,  I  know,  ( 
has  a  great  deal  of  work  done,  and  you  shan't  be  idle 
long.  So,  good  by — cheer  up,  and  remember  that  the 
darkest  hour  is  just  before  the  dawn." 

So  saying,  she  departed,  leaving  the  sisters  amazed,  j 

yet  delighted.     They  were  amazed  to  see  one  so  young, 

so  full  of  kindly,  generous  sympathy  for  her  sex,  little  j 

knowing  that  from  her  earliest  girlhood  Eva  Bellamy  had  j 

found  her  chief  pleasure  in  doing  good  for  others,  and  \ 

they  were  delighted  to  have  found  one  who  seemed  so  ! 

comp^tfetit  to  ^dvise,  and  so  willing  to  assist  them  in 

this  hoilf  of  tryipg  difficulty.  { 

:[\  ;  Eva's  mission  of  kindness  proved  successful,  for  in  j 

'  I  less  than  two  Koiirs  after  her  departure,  a  large  bundle  } 

was  brought  to  them,  with  a  note  from  her.     The  roll  j 

contained  the  materials  for  two  dozen  of  "over-alls,"  j 

/  a  garment  made  of  coarse  twilled  cotton,  intended  for  j 

(  cartmen,  porters,   etc.,  to  draw  on   over  their  other  ^ 

<  clothes,  to  save  them  from  dirt  and  rents.     The  note  \ 

(  informed  them  that  they  were  to  receive  one  shilling  a  S 

pair  for  making  them,  and  expressed  her  regret  that  ') 

(  she  could  not  procure  any  more  easy  or  profitable  '' 

!  work.  \ 

Before  commencing  work,  Clara  and  Laura  had  a 


j  TixK   ELLIOTT   FALilLY.  103 

j  long  conversation  upon  their  future  prospects,  and  they 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  i 

them  to  retain  the  rooms  they  now  occupied,  at  the  same 
/  rate  of  rent.  They,  therefore,  determined  to  occupy  but 
j  one  room,  and  to  make  that,  for  the  present,  serve  all 
j  purposes.  It  was  rather  a  discouraging  beginning, 
!  but  they  saw  the  necessity  of  the  strictest  economy,  and 
i  made  up  their  minds  to  practice  it,  without  a  murmur. 


.& 


104  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


CHAPTER   X, 


Laura  and  her  sister  had  yet  some  difficulties  to  ) 
overcome,  which  they  had  not  anticipated.     They  con-  ( 
templated  giving  up  all  the  rooms  they  had  occupied 
during  their  mother's  lifetime,  except  one,  the  rent  of  j 
which  they  thought  they  might  manage  to  pay  without  ) 
any  very  great    difficulty.     There  was,    however,   a  \ 
month's  rent  of  the  rooms  due  to  the  landlord  already,  ] 
to  meet  which  they  had  not  a  single  cent,  as  the  funeral 
expenses  of  their  mother  had  absorbed  all  the  money 
they  had  been  able  to  procure,  by  pawning  every  article  ) 
they  could  possibly  spare;  but  they  relied  upon  the  j 
humanity  of  the  landlord  to  allow  them  a  sufficient  time  j 
to  earn  and  save  enough  to  pay  him.  \ 

The  kind  physician  who  had  attended  their  dear  \ 
mother  with  such  assiduous  care,  saw  at  once  their  ) 
situation,  and  aware  of  their  inability  to  pay  a  physi-  ) 
cian's  bill  without  distressing  themselves,  he  positively  ) 
refused  to  accept  of  one  single  cent,  assuring  them  at  ) 
the  same  time,  that  if  they  felt  a  confidence  in  him,  he  i 
should  feel  offended  if  they  did  not  always  call  on  him 
when  a  physician's  services  were  required,  an  act  of 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  105 

kindness    for   which    they    thanked    him    from    their 
hearts. 

They  commenced  their  new  work  with  heavy  hearts, 
I  and  every  effort  they  made  to  be  gay  and  cheerful, 
seemed  only  to  sink  them  deeper  in  despair.  The 
work  was  very  hard,  and  as  it  was  new  to  them  for  the 
first  week,  they  could  only  make  at  the  most  two 
pairs  a  day,  and  even  that  was  not  accomplished  with- 
out the  most  incessant  toil.  This  was  earning  two  and 
a  half  cents  per  hour;  they  working  without  cessation 
twelve  hours  a  day. 

Their  landlord  called  upon  them,  to  receive  his  rent, 
at  the  commencement  of  the  ensuing  week,  and  they 
then  made  the  proposal  to  him,  to  release  them  from 
the  other  rooms,  promising  to  pay  up  the  back  rent  as 
fast  as  it  could  be  earned. 

This  man  had  made  the  money  which  enabled  him 
to  be  a  landlord  by  keeping  a  low  retail  liquor  store, 
an  occupation  not  tending  very  much  to  elevate  his 
character,  or  to  inspire  him  with  the  most  tender  feel- 
ings for  the  sufferings  of  others. 

He  listened  to  their  proposal  in  silence,  and  when 
\  Clara  had  ceased  speaking,  he  said,  gruffly ; 
I  "  What  security  am  I  to  have  for  the  rent  ?" 
I  "  We  cannot  give  any  but  our  own  word.  The  rent 
\  of  the  single  room  will  be  only  one  dollar  a  week,  and 
if  we  do  not  pay  punctually,  of  course  you  will  have  it 
in  your  power  to  turn  us  out." 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  very  well,  and  lose  my  rent.  No, 
no,  that  won't  do ;  I  must  have  the  back  rent  paid  up 


106  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

at  once,  and  security  given  for  the  remainder,  or  you 
must  go.  I  can't  afford  to  let  my  rooms  for  nothing, 
when  I  can  get  plenty  of  good  tenants  who  will  pay." 

"  But  we  cannot  give  security,  and  surely  you  will 
not  turn  us  out  of  doors.  We  can  earn  the  rent  each 
week,  and  will  pay  it  promptly."  j 

"  Well,"  said  the  brute,  "suppose  you  are  taken  sick,  j 
who  is  to  pay  me  then  ?"  j 

"  We  certainly  ought  to  make  allowance  for  that,  for  j 
we  are  all  liable  to  sickness ;  but  in  such  a  case,  we  ] 
should  have  to  suffer,  I  suppose."  j 

"  Well,   if  you  can't  do  any  better  than  that,  you  j 
can't  have  my  rooms  any  longer.     When  your  mother 
was  alive,  I  didn't  require  security — but  girls  are  so  ^ 
apt  to  cheat  one."  ! 

"  Never  mind,  sir ;  you  need  not  say  any  more," 
said  Clara,  proudly  ;  "  we  will  try  and  procure  other 
rooms." 

"  You  may  do  that  as  soon  as  you  please,  only  I'll 
thank  you  to  pay  the  back  rent." 

"  That  we  will  do,  I  assure  you,  as  soon  as  we  can 
possibly  earn  it.  We  will  pay  it  in  weekly  instal- 
ments." 

"  And  do  you  suppose  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  let  you 

take  this  furniture  away  without  paying  me  ?     No,  no. 

I  dare  say  you  would  pay  me  if  you  had  the  money, 

but  as  you  have  n't  got  it,  I  can't  afford  to  wait  till  you 

/  can  earn  it ;  so  I  must  make  the  best  of  it,  and  you 

j  have  no  right  to  complain." 

'      So  saying,  the  brutal  landlord  left  them,  in  a  state  of 


/ 


(  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY  107 

)  the  most  painful  suspense :  for  they  were  utterly  ignorant 
of  the  power  which  the  law  gave  to  him  over  them.        j         \ 

j       They  seated  themselves  again  at  their  work,  but  it 

^  was  in  vain  :  their  eyes  so  filled  with  tears,  they  could 
not  see  a  stitch  they  took,  and  it  was  laid  aside. 

,  "  I  wonder,  dear  sister,"  said  Clara,  "  what  that  man 
intends  to  do  ?  Surely  he  won't  turn  us  out  of  doors 
now." 

i  **  I  don't  know.  He  looks  as  if  he  would  do  anything 
for  money.     However,  we  shall  soon  know,  I  dare  say. 

5  How  I  wish  that  young  lady  was  here  now  to  advise  us. 

)  She  seems  to  be  so  familiar  with  everything  of  this  kind, 

;  she  could  tell  us  what  to  do." 

I  "She  is  a  wonderful  girl.  She  has  so  much  kind- 
ness, so  much  sympathy,  so  much  courage,  I  declare  I 
fell  fairly  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight." 

I      "  Here  is  somebody  coming  up — but  it  is  not  Eva," 

i  said  Laura,  as  a  heavy  step  was  heard  ascending  the 

j  stairs  toward  their  room,  and  immediately  after  a  rap 
at  the  door  announced  a  visitor.  In  answer  to  the 
"  come  in,"  a  tall,  hard-featured,  coarse-looking  man 
entered,  and  with  an  attempt  at  civility,  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  ladies,  but  the  law  must 
take  its  course." 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  lawy  the  hearts  of  the  or- 
phans sank  within  them.  It  conveyed  to  them  thousands 
of  ill-defined  terrors,  and  for  an  instant  they  scarcely 
seemed  to  breathe. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  saying  the  law 
must  take  its  course.     I  am  sure  we  have  done  nothing 


I  108  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  \ 

\  to  offend  the  law,'^  said  Clara,  who  first  found  voice  to 
(  speak.  \ 

(  "I  didn't  say  you  had,  but  I've  got  a  warrant  here 
\  to  seize  this  'ere  furniture,  and  to  see  you  safe  out  of  the 
(  house." 

\  "  Good  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  Clara,  starting  up,  "  you 
(  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Mr.  Ellis  has  seized  our  furni- 
i  ture  ?" 

(  "  No,  ma'am,  I  did  n't  mean  any  such  a  thing ;  I 
mean  to  say  that  I  do,  though,  for  him,  by  virtue  of  this 
)  'ere  warrant.  So  I  must  do  my  duty." 
\  "  Surely  you  will  not  take  all  this  furniture  for  the 
I  paltry  sum  we  owe  him  ?"  asked  Laura,  looking  around 
i  upon  their  neatly  furnished  room. 
i  "  I  don't  know  why  I  should  not.  Furniture  at  auc- 
]  tion,  just  now,  won't  bring  much  more  than  a  quarter 
\  of  its  value  ;  but  that's  your  misfortune."  ( 

'*  Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  sir,  don't  be  so  cruel  as  to  » 
\  leave  us  entirely  destitute.  We  will  pay  the  rent  as  < 
S  soon  as  we  can  possibly  earn  if."  j 

j  "  I  dare  say  that  is  all  very  correct,  miss,  but  I  have  j 
)  got  no  choice.  I  am  ordered  to  seize  on  this  'ere  fur-  ( 
i  niture,  and  seize  it  I  must.  But,  I  tell  you  what  I  will 
)  do.  You  look  as  if  you  wouldn't  try  to  cheat  me,  so 
j  I'll  leave  the  furniture,  here  till  to-morrow  morning, 
and  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  raise  the  money  in  the 
meantime.  You  must  promise  me  you  wpn't  try  to 
get  any  of  it  away."  J 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  we  will  not ;  and  although  I  have  j 
no  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  procure  any  money,  we 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  109  ( 

may  find  a  place  where  we  can  go  after  we  are  turned 
out." 

"  Well,  I  will  trust  you  so  far ;  but  mind  you,  if  you 
do  play  me  any  tricks,  it  will  be  all  the  worse  for  you, 
I  tell  you.  So  good-bye  ;  I  will  be  here  again  to-mor- 
row morning,  about  this  time,"  and  he  left  them. 

A  good  hearty  cry  seemed  to  relieve  their  hearts, 
and  after  the  first  feelings  of  grief  had  subsided,  they 
turned  their  thoughts  to  the  future. 

"  Now,"  said  Laura,  "  I  will  go  and  seek  Miss  Bel- 
lamy. She  can  advise  us  how  to  act,  and  as  she  appears 
to  know  so  much  better  than  we  do  about  everything, 
her  advice  will  be  of  service  to  us,  and  I  know  she 
will  cheerfully  give  it." 

"  Oh  yes,  go  by  all  means,"  said  Clara,  who  felt  her 
own  inability  to  act  in  this  trying  crisis ;  "  go,  by  all 
means,  and  ask  her  to  come  here  in  the  morning.  Who 
knows  but  that  constable  may  impose  on  us,  because 
of  our  very  ignorance  in  such  matters.  I  am'  sure  for 
the  trifle  we  owe  Mr.  Ellis,  he  ought  not  to  take  all  our 
furniture,  and  leave  us  completely  destitute." 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell  or  imagine  what  he  may  do, 
}  I  am  so  perfectly  ignorant.  But  I  will  now  go  and 
J  seek  Miss  Bellamy.  Perhaps  she  can  help  us  in  our 
I  trouble  ;  so  don't  be  frightened  if  I  should  stay  out 
^  rather  long." 

j      So  saying,  Laura  departed  in  search  of  the  young 
friend  on  whose  advice  they  relied  so  much,  and  after 
a  weary  search  of  two  hours,  returned  without  having 
^  succeeded  in  finding  her. 


110  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do.  It  is 
really  dreadful  to  be  so  imposed  on,"  exclaimed  Clara, 
when  she  learned  the  ill  success  of  her  sister's  search. 

"  Well,  we  must  bear  it  as  well  as  we  can.  The 
law  can  only  take  away  what  we  have  got,  and  we  can 
go  to  work  and  earn  more.  For  my  part,  I  don't  mean 
to  cry  about  it  any  more." 

"  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  so,  Laura ;  but  what  are 
we  going  to  do,  when  all  our  furniture  is  gone  ?  Where 
are  we  to  sleep  ?     Where  to  eat  ?" 

"  Sleep  ?  eat  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  poor  girls  think- 
ing about  sleeping  and  eating  ?"  exclaimed  Laura,  in 
tones  of  bitter  sarcasm.  "  No,  no,  don't  let  such  ideas 
as  that  distress  you  !  We  require  only  work  ;  we  can 
live  on  that,"  she  added,  with  bitterness,  while  tears 
forced  themselves  to  her  eyes. 

That  night  was  passed  in  sleepless  worrying,  and  re- 
grets that  they  had  not  succeeded  in  finding  Miss  Bel- 
lamy, but  they  hoped  that  chance  might  bring  her  in 
their  neighborhood  in  the  morning,  before  the  constable 
returned. 

In  this,  however,  they  were  disappointed,  as  he  was 
punctual  to  a  minute,  and  Eva  had  not  yet  made  her  ap- 
pearance. 

"  Well,  girls,  I  suppose  you've  got  the  money  for  me  ?" 
he  said,  as  he  made  a  clumsy  obeisance. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  we  have  not,"  said  Laura, 
calmly. 

"  Well,  then,  my  course  is  plain.  I  must  take  the 
things  and  sell  them." 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  Ill 

"  You  surely  will  not  take  all  this  furniture,  for  so 
trifling  a  claim  as  that  against  us.  Mr.  Ellis  could 
never  have  given  any  such  orders.  He  is  not  so  cruel 
as  that." 

"  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  Mr.  Ellis  or  his  or- 
ders. I  have  got  a  warrant  here  to  distrain  for  one 
month's  rent  and  costs,  and  I  rather  guess  that  all  this 
furniture,  if  sold  in  Chatham  street,  won't  more  than 
pay  it.  But  if  there  is  any  left,  I  will,  of  course,  pay 
it  over  to  you.  I  must,  however,  do  my  duty ;  so  I 
suppose  I  can  send  them  off  at  once." 

''  But  we  can  keep  our  clothes  ?"  inquired  Clara. 

*'  Oh,  certainly  ;  only  you  must  get  them  out  quick,  as 
I  have  lost  half  a  day  already  by  trying  to  oblige  you." 

The  girls  saw  there  was  no  use  of  arguing  further 
with  a  man  who  had  but  the  one  idea  in  his  head,  and 
taking  their  clothes  from  their  only  bureau,  they  laid 
them  in  their  trunks,  and  piece  by  piece  the  room  was 
stripped  of  every  article  of  furniture,  which  was  rudely 
and  carelessly  piled  on  a  cart,  which  the  constable  had 
brought  with  him. 

As  the  last  article  was  carried  off,  and  the  officer  of 
the  law  had  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room,  with  "  I  am 
really  very  sorry  for  you,  girls,  but  the  law  must  have 
its  course,"  the  sisters  seated  themselves  on  their  trunks, 
and  gave  way  to  a  hearty  flow  of  tears. 

But  even  this  luxury  was  denied  them  long,  for  they 
v^ere  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  the  door,  and,  in  reply 
to  their  "  come  in,"  a  smiling  good-natured  little  woman 
entered. 


>  112  THE   ELLIOTT  FAMILY, 

1 

,;       *^  Well,  my  dears,"   she  said,  familiarly,   "  I  have 

!  rented  these  rooms,  as  Mr.  Ellis  told  me^  you  were  leav- 
!  ing ;  but  if  you  ain't  ready  to  go  yet,  just  say  so,  and  I 
will  leave  you  in  them  till  to-morrow," 

"  Go  !"  exclaimed  Clara,  "  where  can  we  go  ?  Mr. 
Ellis  has  turned  us  out  of  doors,  and  we  have  no  place 
to  lay  our  heads.  He  has  stripped  us  of  every  article 
of  furniture,  and  bids  us  go." 

"And  has  Mr.  Ellis  done  that  ?"  inquired  the  stran- 
ger, her  little  gray  eyes  flashing. 

"  He  has,  indeed,"  replied  Laura,  sobbing. 
'^  Then  you  may  stay  here  just  as  long  as  you  choose. 
I  have  only  got  one  little  child,  and  don't  want  all  the 
rooms,  so  you  can  have  one,  and  I've  got  plenty  of  fur- 
niture, such  as  it  is ;  so  make  your  hearts  easy  on  that 
score.     I've  paid  my  rent  in  advance,  and  he  can't  j 
hinder  me   from  doing  what  I  choose  with  my  own  J 
rooms."  ; 

(      The  sisters  expressed  their  most  grateful  thanks  for  > 
j  this  unexpected  act  of  kindness,  which  they  accepted, 
f  assuring  their  kind  hostess  that  they  would  cheerfully  > 
j  pay  her  whatever  she  might  deem  proper  to  ask  for  i 
their  board.  | 

\  "  Come,  come,  make  your  hearts  perfectly  easy,  j 
J  girls.  I  am  poor,  but  poverty  has  not  steeled  my  heart  j 
J  against  the  distresses  of  my  fellow-creatures.  I  have  J 
j  to  sew  for  my  Ifving,  as  I  dare  say  you  do,  and  there  is  | 
)  no  use  in  our  worrying  each  other.  You  shall  have 
)  the  room  for  what  you  can  afford  to  pay,  and  I  will  make  j 
you  as  comfortable  as  possible.     I  am  sure  I  should  \ 


:  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  113  \ 

:  never  have  another  night's  rest,  if  I  were  to  let  you  go  out  j 

I  of  the  house  without  knowing  where  you  were  to  go,  or  j 

I  which  way  to  turn.     Come,  my  things  will  be  here  j 

I  right  away,  and  if  we  work  sharp,  we  can  get  all  | 

straight  by  dinner  time.'  j 

,    Mrs.  Stewart,  for  that  was  the  name  of  this  kind  little  | 

woman,  bustled  about  to  such  good  purpose,  and  the  [ 

sisters  assisted  her  so  readily,  that,  as  she  predicted,  the 

rooms  were  in  order  by  dinner  time. 

Clara  and  Laura  could  scarcely  realize  the  change, 
so  sudden  had  it  been.  A  few  short  hours  before,  and 
they  were  houseless,  homeless — without  a  friend  to  look 
to,  and  the  prospect  before  them  dark  indeed.  They 
felt  that  Providence  had  especially  interposed  in  their 
behalf,  and  they  poured  out  in  the  very  fullness  of  their 
hearts  their  grateful  thanks  to  God  for  his  unceasing 
goodness,  imploring  also  grace  to  be  able  to  submit  with 
humility  and  cheerfulness  to  any  dispensation  which 
the  future  might  bring  upon  them.  The  entire  day  was 
occupied  by  them  in  assisting  Mrs.  Stewart,  and  at 
night  they  retired  to  rest  weary  and  fatigued,  but  with 
hearts  comparatively  at  ease. 


114  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


Mr.  Simmons,  with  his  interesting  family,  had  been 
j  at  the  Springs  some  three  or  four  weeks,  living  in  the 
i  i  most  luxurious  and  extravagant  style,  exciting  the  ad- 
\miration  of  some  and  the  envy  of  others. 

It  was  settled  between  the  amiable  sisters  that  Mr. 
J  Seabrook,  the  wealthy  Southerner,  was  to  be  the  hus- 
l  band  of  one  of  them  before  the  season  closed.  The 
heart  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  any  marriage  of 
theirs,  which  they  might  contract,  so  that  was  not  to 
be  counselled.  He  was  wealthy,  and  what  was  to 
them  quite  as  desirable,  was  of  a  most  ancient  and 
aristocratic  family  ;  so  he  was  plied  with  attentions  with 
which  no  man  possessed  of  less  than  the  ordinary  share 
of  common  sense  could  fail  to  feel  flattered.  He  was 
quite  at  a  loss  which  of  the  two  to  choose.     He  had 


{  made  up  his  mind  that  one  of  them  was  to  be  his  wife,  \ 
(  but  it  was  very  difficult  to  decide  between  them.  Day  { 
{  after  day  he  was  with  them  on  riding,  fishing,  or  pic  s 
(  nic  excursions,  and  each  day  his  indecision  became  \ 
)  more  harassing.  i 

(       One  day  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  select  Euphe-  ^ 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  Il5 

mia,  but  on  tko  noYt  Maria  had  been  so  exceedingly 
fascinating,  he  was  again  turned. 

While  the  future  husband  of  one  of  the  young  ladies 
was  in  this  unpleasant  predicament,  Mr.  Simmons  one 
day  received  a  letter  from  his  head  clerk,  the  contents 
of  which  caused  him  so  much  agitation  that  he  could 
not  conceal  it,  and  Mr.  Seabrook,  who  was  with  him  at 
the  time,  could  not  forbear  asking  if  he  had  received 
any  unpleasant  news. 

"  No — not  at  all ;  rather  singular  though,"  was  the 
reply,  given  in  a  hurried  and  excited  manner ;  so  much 
so  as  to  induce  the  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Sea-  | 
brook  that  it  was  exactly  the  reverse.     And  Mr.  Sim-  { 
mons  added,  "  But  I  must  go  down  to  the  city  and  in- 
quire into  it.     Shall  I  leave  my  family  in  your  charge^  I 
Mr.  Seabrook  ?"  he  inquired,  in  his  blandest  tones. 

**  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world.     I  shall 
be  too  happy  in  having  such  a  charge  confided  to  me,"  i 
politely  replied  that  gentleman. 

By  the  next  conveyance,  Mr.  Simmons  was  on  the 

road  to  the  city,  and  in  ho  very  amiable  state  of  mind. 

j  The  letter  from  his  clerk  informed  him  that  drafts  to  a 

large  amount,  drawn  by  a  heavy  Southern  house  in  his 

i  favor,  had  been  dishonored,  and  there  was  good  reason  j 

\  to  apprehend  a  crash. 

)      Mr.  Simmons  foresaw  that,  if  this  house  failed,  his 

j  own  ruin  was  inevitable.     For  the  past  few  months  he 

)  had  been  much  harassed  for  money,    and  this  disap 

pointment  would  effectually  cripple  him.     He  knew 

that  prompt  and  decisive  measures  alone  could  save 


!  116  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  ) 

him,  and  he  was  hasteninsr  to  tKo  <,lty  to  put  them  in  J 

\  On  reaching  4;he  store,  he  found  that  he  had  arrived  { 
i  too  late.     The  Southern  house  was  gone  past  hope,  and  \ 

•  those  who  knew  his  intimate  connection  with  them,  J 
(  foresaw  his  downfall.  Bills  were  poured  in  upon  him  J 
j  with  the  most  appalling  celerity.  Friends  on  whom  he  j 
(  had  often  before  relied,  were  now  hard  run ;  they  I 
{  could  afford  him  no  assistance.  At  least,  they  said  so,  | 
}  and  he  had  the  additional  mortification  of  knowing  that  j 
)  it  was  not  true,  but  that  this  excuse  was  only  made  to  j 
I  soften  a  refusal  of  the  required  loan. 

)  At  length  one  heavy  day  came,  and  Mr.  Simmons 
(  was  compelled  to  allow  his  notes  to  lie  over.  The 
(  news  of  a  failure  such  as  his,  was  not  long  unknown  in 

a  great  commercial  city  like  New- York,  and  before  ( 
j  night  of  that  day,  every  piece  of  property  he  owned  in 
(  the  world  was  attached.  j 

'.       Hurriedly  he  wrote  a  note  to  his  wife  and  daughters, 
j  informing  them  of  his  failure,  and  urging  them  to  se-  ( 
(  cure  Mr.  Seabrook,  at  all  hazards. 
(       But  that  gentleman  was  not  so  easily  secured.     He  • 

suspected  from  the  manner  of  Mr.  Simmons  that  all  was  \ 

not  right,  and  had  written  to  a  mercantile  friend  in  the  ! 

city  to  inform  him  of  the  state  of  his  future  father-in-  ^ 

•  law's  affairs.  The  reply  was  so  perfectly  satisfactory  { 
I  that,  on  the  morning  after  its  receipt,  he  found  himself  ', 
'  called  home  by  the  most  alarming  intelligence  as  to  the  ) 
'  health  of  an  aged  uncle,  whose  heir  he  was  to  be,  nor  ! 
i  could  all  the  entreaties  of  Mrs.  Simmons,  aided  by  the  ' 


f  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  117 

I  imploring  looks  of  the  fascinating  daughters,  keep  him 
!  a  single  hour,  and  he  departed  amid  sighs  of  regret. 
)  The  day  after  his  departure,  the  letter  from  Mr.  Sim- 
mox^s  reached  its  destination,  and  the  news  came  like  a 
J  thunder  clap  upon  them.  A  council  was  at  once  held, 
i  and,  as  securing  Mr.  Seabrook  was  now  impossible,  it 
)  was  determined  to  secure,  if  possible,  some  other  equally 
eligible  match. 

But  here  again  they  were  checked.     The  failure  of  [ 
Mr.  Simmons  had  been  publicly  announced,  and  long 
before  the  mother  and  daughters  had  arranged  their 
plans,  every  visitor  at  the   Springs  knew  of  it.     The 
cold  looks  of  their  quondam  friends — the  expressions  of 
sympathy  for  their  misfortune — ^the  ill-concealed  sneers 
of  those  who  had  formerly  envied  them — added  gall  to 
the  bitter  draught  they  had  been  forced  to  swallow,  and  i 
s.eeing  that  Saratoga  was  no  longer  the  place  for  them,  i 
they  made  preparations  for  leaving.  ' 

Here  again,  however,  another  unlocked  for  difficulty  ' 
presented  itself.     They  had  run  up  an  enormous  bill  ] 
at  the  expensive  hotel  where  they  had  resided,  and  all 
the   ready  money  which  Mr.  Simmons  had  so   freely 
lavished  on  them,  had  long  since  been   dissipated  in 
foolish  extravagances.     The  landlord,  however,  proved 
more  accommodating  than  they  had  anticipated,  and  i 
j  permitted  them  to  depart,  with  the  assurance  that  his  j 
j  bill  should  be  settled  immediately  upon  their  reaching  j 
j  the  city.     He  had  not  the  least  idea  he  should  ever  see  } 
j  one  cent,  but  he  wisely  thought  that  he  had  better  have  | 
t  his  rooms  vacant,  than  to  support  upon  so  poor  a  pros-  j 


118  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  ( 

pect  of  remuneration,  so  extravagant  and  troublesome  a  j 
family  as  that  of  Mr.  Simmons's.  i 

Mr.  Simmons's  failure  was,  in  truth,  perfectly  ruin- 
ous. He  had  lived  up  to  the  very  height  of  his  in- 
come, and  had  not  assets  enough  to  pay  fifty  cents  on 
the  dollar.  This  created  much  hard  feeling  against 
him  among  his  creditors,  who  had  been  disposed  at  first 
to  treat  him  with  lenity,  but  when  his  books  were  ex- 
hibited and  his  personal  expenses  made  known,  he  was 
required  to  give  up  every  thing  to  satisfy  their  de- 
mands. 

Mrs.  Simmons  and  her  daughters  could  scarcely 
realize  the  change  which  the  short  period  of  two  weeks 
had  made  in  their  circumstances.  Reduced  suddenly 
from  wealth  to  a  poverty  as  chilling  as  that  of  their 
earliest  years,  they  were  utterly  unable  to  bear  up 
against  it.  True,  wealth'  had  suddenly  flowed  in  upon 
them,  and  as  suddenly  vanished.  True,  they  had 
risen  from  the  humblest  walks  in  life  to  a  rank  and 
station  attained  by  very  few,  except  by  those  who  have 
wealth  at  their  command ;  and  that,  too,  by  a  chain  of 
circumstances  purely  fortuitous.  But  they  had  grown 
proud,  haughty  and  conceited,  as  they  grew  rich,  and, 
as  each  year  added  to  their  importance,  they  felt  it  impos- 
sible that  they  could  recede.  They  had  never  suffered 
a  thought  that  poverty  was  a  thing  of  possible  occur- 
rence with  them  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  their  days,  and 
were,  therefore,  entirely  unprepared  for  the  change. 

Nor  had  they  any  source  of  comfort  or  consolation  in  \ 
their  own  hearts.     Each  looked  upon  the  other  now  ' 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  119  j 

with  distrust.     Each  felt  that    the    other  was  in  her  j 
way,  and  each  one  was  prepared,  at  any  moment,   to  \ 
sacrifice  the  other,  if,  by  so  doing,  she  could  be  again 
elevated  to  the  height  from  which  they  had  been  thus 
suddenly  precipitated. 

Mr.  Simmons  knew  well  what  he  had  to  do.     He 
saw  around  him  a  family  entirely  unfitted  to  be  of  the 
least  possible    service  to  him.     True,   his   daughters 
had  been  elegantly  educated,  and  were  what  the  world 
terms  accomplished.     They  could  play,  and  sing,  and 
dance,  and,  in  company  could  make  themselves  agreea- 
ble.    But  in  their  own  home  they  were   perfectly  use- 
!  less  fixtures  :  of  the  ordinary  domestic  duties  profoundly 
)  ignorant,  they  could  be  of  no  service  at  home,  and  they 
j  displayed   no  desire  to  be  useful  to  themselves  or  to 
)  others  abroad.  _ 

i  Mrs.  Simmons  felt  the  sudden  revulsion  as  bitterly 
j  as  did  either  of  her  daua^hters ;  but  she  had  in  earlier 
j  days  been  accustomed  to  poverty,  and,  with  all  her  j 
)  faults,  she  loved  her  husband  too  well  to  desire  to  see 
him  alone  and  comfortless  now.  She  knew  well  the  cha- 
racters of  her  children,  and  had  good  cause  to  dread  for  j 
j  them,  but  she  determined  to  neglect  no  precaution  which 
S  might  save  them. 

)  A  small  house  was  taken  in  the  upper  part  of  the  \ 
)  city,  and  Mr.  Simmons,  having  procured  a  clerkship  in  ( 
)  a  large  store  at  a  fair  salary,  hoped  to  enjoy  compara-  ; 
(  tive  peace.  But  he  little  knew,  or  remembered  that  he  I 
)  who  sows  the  wind  must  expect  to  reap  the  whirlwind.  \ 
I  His  daughters  had  been  brought  up  amid  the  refinements  \ 


(  120  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


;  of  ease  and  luxury,  ever  so  readily  attained  by  those  ' 
J  who  have  wealth  at  their  command ;   and  among  the  ' 
J  earliest  lessons  impressed  upon  their  minds,  was  a  per-  | 
r^i-fect  and  unmitigated  contempt  for  poverty.     The  idea 
/    J  of  feeling  for  the  wants  of  another  was  something  so 
■     )  strange,  it  never  found  a  place  in  their  hearts,  and  as 
(  for  sympathy  with  their  suffering  fellow-creatures,  it 
was  an  emotion  they  had  never  experienced. 

They  had,  however,  some  lessons  yet  to  learn,  which 
J  were  to  make  ineffaceable  impressions  on  their  minds ; 
and  they  were  doomed  to  drink  to  the  dregs  of  the  cup 
)  they  had  so  often  held  to  the  lips  of  others.     They  had, 
in  the  vanity  of  their  hearts,  conceived  that  the  atten- 
tions paid  to  them,  and  the  flatteries  so  often  poured 
into  their  willing  ears,  were  tributes  to  their  worth,  to 
their  graces,  and  to  their  accomplishments,  and  while 
^  they  had  ever  felt  happy  in  exciting  envy  in  others,  by 
!  the  display  which  their  father's  wealth  enabled  them 
to    make,  they  haa    never  dreamed  that   Providence 
j  might  reverse  the  picture,  and  place  them  in  the  posi- 
(  tion  of  those  whom  they  delighted  to  torment. 

All  the  efforts  of  their  father  and  mother  to  induce  ) 
i  them  to  apply  themselves  to  some  useful  occupation 
proved  unavailing,  and  their  time  was  passed  in  gad- 
ding from  house  to  house. 

But  the  coldness  of  their  reception  was  such  at  nearly 
/  every  place  they  visited,  they  could  not  longer  even 
j  fancy  themselves  welcome,  and  could  they  have  heard 
(  one  half  of  the  remarks  drawn  forth  by  their  visit,  shame 
(  would  have  deterred  them  from  repeating  it. 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  121 

Of  all  the  families  with  whom  in  the  hour  of  their 
prosperity  they  had  been  on  terms  of  intimacy,  not  one 
was  there  but  received  them  with  the  most  freezing 
coldness,  and,  on  one  occasion,  as  they  were  about 
leaving  the  house  of  one  who  had  been  one  of  their 
"  dearest  friends,"  they  overheard  the  order  given — 
"  Not  at  home  in  future  to  the  Misses  Simmons  V 

At  home,  they  frittered  away  their  time  in  useless 
repinings,  instead  of  applying  themselves  to  domestic 
employments,  and  the  consequence  was  they  soon  be- 
)  came  sullen  and  morose,  quarrelling  with  each  other, 
)  impertinent  to  their  parents,  and  a  burthen  to  them- 
selves. 
)       Mr.  Simmons  regretted  this  sad  change  in  his  cir- 
I  cumstances  full  as  much  for  the  sake  of  his  children  as 
)  for  himself,  for  he  was  sufficiently  a  man  of  the  world 
to  know  that,  while  they  were  counted   wealthy,  all 
<  their  faults  would  be  overlooked,  and  they  might  make 
!  almost  any  marriage  they  chose.     But  as  the  children 
I  of  a  poor  man,  and  with  faults  so  glaring  in  their  cha- 
)  racters,  such  as  he  saw  too  plainly,  he  knew  that  their 
I  prospects  of  settlement  were  poor  indeed,  and  he  used 
)  every  effort  to  impress  upon  their  minds  the  necessity 
of  an  alteration  in  their  conduct  and  manners.     But 
they  heeded  his  advice  with  contemptuous  indifference, 
and  promised  not  long  to  be  a  burthen  to  him. 

In  this  manner  this  unhappy  family  passed  several 
months,  their  house  being  daily  a  scene  of  wrangling 
and  quarrelling,  producing  a  bitterness  of  feeling  which, 
in  the  end,  extinguished  almost  every  spark  of  affec-  \ 


V 


123  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  ; 

tiorij  and  which  severed  the  hearts  of  the  sisters  as  com- 
pletely as  though  they  had  been  strangers  to  each 
other,  or,  perhaps,  acquaintances  of  the  hour. 

But,  leaving  them  for  the  time,  let  us  return  to  Clara 
and  Laura  Elliott,  whom  we  left  in  the  care  of  the  kind- 
hearted  Mrs.  Stewart. 


k^ ^.^^ « 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  123  J 


CHAPTER  XII 


The  day  after  the  occurrences  detailed  in  a  previous 
chapter,  while  Clara  and  her  sister  were  seated  at  their 
work,  they  received  an  unexpected,  but  most  welcome 
call  from  Miss  Bellamy,  who  had  been  absent  from  the 
city  for  a  few  days. 

"  Why,  girls,"  said  she,  as  soon  as  she  entered  their 
1  little  room,  "  what  have  you  been  doing  ?  You  have 
j  changed  all  your  furniture." 

Tears  started  to  the  eyes  of  the  sisters,  as  they  heard 
j  the  remark,  but  checking  them,  they  proceeded  to  nar- 
)  rate  the  circumstances  which  led  to  the  alteration  in  the 
j  appearance  of  their  apartment.  Eva  listened  with  deep 
j  attention,  and  her  generous  heart  glowed  with  kindly 
sympathy,  as  she  wept  over  the  trials  of  the  unfortunate 
)  orphans.  ( 

j       "  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  when  the   narrative  was  j 
finished,  "  you  have  one  comfort  left,  of  which  all  the  | 
j  constables  in  the  world  cannot  deprive  you.     You  have  | 
j  God  in  whom  to  trust,  and  he  will  not  desert  you,  I  am  ! 
sure."  j 

j      '*  Yes,  dear  Miss  Bellamy,  and  we  have  in  you  one  | 


124  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

earthly  friend,  whose  generous  sympathy  has  lightened 
many  heavy  hours  of  their  load.  We  may  never  be 
able  to  repay  your  kindness,  but  we  never  will  forget 
it,  or  cease  to  remember  you  in  our  prayers."  j 

"  You  will   pain  me,"  replied  Eva,   "  by  speaking  ) 
thus.      I  act  ever  from  the  promptings  of  my  own  ( 
heart,   and  in  the  consciousness  that  I   perform  my  J 
duty,  I  have  ever  derived  my  highest  reward.     But  ( 
1  how  fare  you  ?     How  do  you  get  on  with  your  work  ?  \ 
j  Have  you  ascertained  yet  how  much  you  can  make  at  j 

\      "  I  fear,"  replied  Clara,  "  that  our  prospects  are  not  j 

)  the  most  flattering.     At  the  very  most,  we  cannot  make  < 

/  more  than  two  pairs  of  these  each  in  a  day,  and  that  j 

(  gives  us  only  twelve  shillings  apiece  for  the  week's  •' 

\  work."  ( 

"  I  wish  I  could  assist  you  myself,"  exclaimed  Eva,  j 

in  the  fullness  of  her  heart,  "  but  I  cannot ;  my  poor  • 

mother  is  very  feeble,  and  all  the  time  I  can  spare,  I  ( 

must  devote  to  her  comfort.     Besides,  all  the  duties  of  j 

our  little  household  devolve  upon  me,  and  however  good  j 

my  will  may  be,  my  powers  will  not  permit  me  to  per-  j 

form  more  than  I  now  do."  | 

"  We  surely  could  not  expect  that.  Miss  Bellamy,  j 

But  do  not  deprive  us  of  your  friendship,  your  advice,  j 

and  your  occasional  visits.      Besides  yourself,  there  is 

no  human  being  whom  we  may  call  friend,  and  our  in-  i 

experience  renders  us  sadly  in  need  of  your  assist-  ) 

ance.^^  \ 

'}      "  I  would  I  could  do  more  for  you,  indeed,  than  to 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  125 

advise  ;  but  do  not  despair.  When  you  have  seen  one- 
half  the  suffering  I  have  been  compelled  to  witness,  you 
will  think  your  own  lot  comparatively  happy.  There 
is  one  sentence  I  wish  to  impress  deeply  upon  your  ) 
minds — so  deeply,  I  hope  you  will  never  forget  it.  It 
is  my  own  motto,  and  it  has  supported  me  through 
many  hours  of  sad,  weary,  and  cheerless  anxiety : 
*  BrighUrJiou^s^milLcome.\  Bear  this  in  mind,  and  if 
it  brings  to  your  hearts  half  the  peace  those  precious 
words  have  bestowed  on  me,  when  I  felt  that  all  was 
dark  and  cheerless,  without  one  ray  of  hope,  you  will 
submit  with  cheerfulness  to  your  lot.  Believe  me, 
girls,  I  have  had  my  sufferings,  and  though  I  have  not 
yet  been  called  on  to  bear  the  lot  of  poverty,  I  have  ex- 
perienced that  which  I  would  gladly  exchange  even  for 
a  portion  so  dreary." 

Eva  spoke  this  with  a  serious,  almost  solemn  earnest- 
ness, that  told  much  more  than  met  the  ear ;  for  the 
girls  could  not  imagine  that  one  situated  as  she  was, 
blessed  in  the  affection  of  a  mother,  enjoying  the  com- 
forts of  a  home,  and  shedding  peace,  joy  and  happiness 
on  all  around  her,  could  have  any  grief  which  these 
few  words  could  assuage,  ^ut^.  alas !  how  mysterious 
are  the  workings  of  the  human  heart,  and  how  few 
there  are  to  whom  it  is  given  to  read  them.  ^  . 

After  an  hour  passed  in  pleasant  sociable  chat,  in  [ 
which  she  used  every  effort  to  cheer  and  encourage 
them,  Eva  left  the  unfortunate  orphans,  promising  to 
repeat  her  visit  at  an  early  day,  but  taking  care  before 
her  departure,  to  impress  again  and  again  upon  them,  { 


) 


} 


I&- 


126  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


the  comfort  brought  to  her  heart  by  the  motto  of  her 
life — "  Brighter  hours  will  come." 

The  girls  continued  at  their  work  for  several  weeks 
with  the  most  assiduous  zeal,  but  sadly  overtasking 
themselves,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  be  able  to  lay 
up  something  against  the  approach  of  the  winter  season, 
which  was  now  rapidly  drawing  near.      But  with  all 
their  efforts,  they  found  it  impossible  to  do  more  than  j 
pay  their  board,  and  with  the  small  surplus  left  from  ] 
each  week's  earnings,  purchase  some  trifling  article  of  j 
absolute  necessity,  to  replace  those  which  the  long-  j 
continued  sickness  of  their  mother,  and  her  funeral  ex- 
penses, had  compelled  them  to  part  with.  j 

They  were  cheered,  however,  once  in  each  week  by  a  j 
visit  from  Eva,  whose  loveliness  of  temper,  and  open, 
frank-heartedness  of  manner,  had  so  won  their  hearts,  j 
they  had  learned  to  love  her  as  a  sister,  and  worthy,  j 
well  worthy,  did  she  prove  herself  of  all  their  affection- 
ate regard.  ;. 

One  bitter  day  in  November,  Laura  had  carried  home 
the  work  finished  during  the  week,  and  before  she 
had  reached  home  on  her  return,  a  cold,  driving  sleet 
came  on,  which  penetrated  through  her  clothing,  un- 
suited  as  it  was  to  the  inclemency  of  the  season  ;  and 
in  a  few  hours  after  reaching  home,  she  was  taken  sick 
with  a  raging  fever. 

The  kind  physician,  whose  generous  aid  had  been  so  ) 

freely  and  voluntarily  extended  to  them  during  their  ! 

mother's  sickness,  was  at  once  sent  for,  and  he  came  ■ 

I  with  as  much  cheerfulness  and  alacrity,  as  though  he  J 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  127 

was  on  a  visit  to  his  most  wealthy  patient,  for  his  heart 
could  make  no  distinction  between  rich  and  poor,  where 
his  skill  and  services  were  required  to  alleviate  suffer- 
ing. 

Laura  was  in  a  high  fever,  and  from  the  looks  of  the 
physician  Clara  drew  unfavorable  omens,  but  he,  ob* 
serving  the  cloud  upon  her  brow,  dispelled  it,  by  assur- 
ing her  that  there  was  no  danger  to  be  immediately  ap- 
prehended. While  he  was  preparing  a  prescription 
for  the  sufferer,  Eva  came  in,  whom  he  at  once  recog-  / 
nized — for  he  had  often  met  her  at  the  residences  of  his 
poor  patients — and  turning  to  Clara,  he  said  :  j 

"  You  need  fear  nothing  where  this  young  lady  is.  | 
I  find  her  everywhere,  where  suffering  is  to  be  alle- 
viated, and  where  kindness  and  sympathy  can  afford 
consolation.  You  must  be  a  happy  girl,  Miss  Bellamy," 
added  he,  turning  to  Eva,  "  for  you  are  always  doing 
some  good  to  your  fellow-creatures." 

Eva  blushed  at  this  well-merited  compliment,  for  in 
the  earnest  sincerity  of  her  heart,  she  could  never 
feel  that  the  performance  of  the  duty  imposed  by  reli- 
gion, and  which  always  afforded  her  great  pleasure, 
was  a  proper  subject  for  compliments,  and  they  always 
occasioned  her  real  pain,  instead  of  pleasure,  as  many 
too  often  imagined. 
*      The  prescription  for  Laura  was  left  with  Clara,  and 
I  after  the  kind  doctor  had  left,  Eva  discovered  from  her 
I  manner  that  something  was  amiss,  as  she  appeared 
I  strangely  agitated. 
)       "  Allow  me  to  go  out  and  have  the  prescription  put 


J   128  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  / 

up,"  she  said,  rightly  divining  the  cause  of  her  emotion,  j 
!  which  was,  in  truth,  that  she  had  not  the  means  to  pay  ^ 
(  even  for  medicine  for  a  sick  and  suffering  sister.  l 

j       "Indeed,  Miss  Bellamy,"  exclaimed  Clara,  "I  am  i 
I  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I  have  not  the  money  to  procure  ( 

it."  s 

\      "  And  why  should  you  be  ashamed,  Clara  ?     I  am  j 
sure  poverty  is  no  crime,  and  your  paucity  of  means  ( 
J  does  not  arise  from  indolence,  certainly.     Give  me  the 

prescription,  and  don't  call  me  Miss  Bellamy  again,  / 

j  unless  you  wish  to  oifend  me  very  much."  j 

"  Dear,  dear  Eva,  may  God  bless  you,  and  make  you  j 

as  happy  as  your  kindness  has  made  us,"  exclaimed  j 

Clara,  bursting  into  tears.  ) 

"  There,  there — don't  cry — Laura  wants  something ;  { 

see  to  her."     So  saying,  she  glided  gently  out  of  the  ( 

room,  her  own  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  which  she  ] 

could  not  repress.  > 

I  will  not  weary  the  reader  by  detailing  the  occur-  v 

j  rences  of  the  following  four  weeks.     Laura's  illness  ( 

)  was  most  serious,  and  she  required  such  constant  atten-  ■ 

'  tion,  Clara  had  no  time  to  work.      Occasionally  she  i 

I  would  hastily  take  up  the  work  before  her,  and  seating  I 

J  herself  by  the  bedside  of  the  sufferer,  would  endeavor  • 

to  sew ;  but  soon  the  tears  would  blind  her  eyes,  as  she  { 

thought  upon  the  future,  and  before  she  could  again  j 

collect  herself,  Laura  would  require  something  at  her  ( 

hands.  ; 

Eva  Bellamy  knew  the  deplorable  state  of  destitution  J 

to  which  the  orphans  were  reduced,  through  the  sick-  , 


;  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  129 

ness  of  the  one,  and  the  inability  of  the  other  to  work  ; 
I  but  her  generous  heart  was  ever  as  ready  to  practice 
as  to  render  sympathy,  and  with  the  most  persevering 
energy,  she  went  about  among  her  friends,  narrating 
the  sad  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  and 
receiving  from  one  and  from  another  such  contributions 
as  enabled  her  to  pay  their  board  weekly,  and  to  pro- 
vlcTe  such  necessaries  and  comforts  as  Laura^s  situation 
demanded. 

Laura  was  confined  to  her  bed  for  four  weeks,  and 
it  was  two  months  before  she  was  enabled  again  to  re- 
sume her  needle ;  but  it  was  evident  that  sickness  had 
made  an  inroad  upon  her  constitution,  which  time  would 
tend  only  to  increase.  In  fact,  it  could  not  be  concealed 
that  her  health  was  completely  broken  up,  and  her  con- 
stitution so  shattered,  that  she  could  not  long  survive. 

She  felt  conscious  of  it  herself,  and  it  caused  her  no 
pain,  except  when  the  remembrance  of  what  her  sister 
must  suffer  when  left  alone  came  across  her  mind;  for 
she  could  well  imagine  how  she  herself  would  feel  were 
she  left  alone,  to  struggle  with  poverty  and  distress. 
Day  by  day  she  drooped,  and  day  by  day  Clara  and 
Eva  watched  her  fading  into  her  early  grave,  their 
hearts  aching  with  grief,  as  they  felt  they  could  do 
nothing  for  her. 

But  the  fiat  had  gone  forth,  and  in  a  few  short  weeks 
Laura  Elliott  was  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Eva  Bellamy  had  been  during  the  whole  of  her  sick-  \ 
ness  a  daily  visitor,  adding  to  the  joy  which  her  own  \ 
welcome  presence  inspired,  the  consolations  of  that  reli-  | 


-a 

130  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  I 

gion  which  was  all  in  all  to  her  ;  and  they  had  the  bliss-  ' 
ful  pleasure  of  realizing  that  the  patient  sufferer  had 
departed  from  a  world  of  sorrows  and  troubles  here,  to 
enjoy  the  rest  and  reward  prepared  and  promised  in 
Heaven,  to  those  who  loved  and  served  the  Lord  in  this  , 
earthly  tabernacle. 

Soon  after  Laura's  death,  Eva  was  called  to  go  with  I 
her  mother  into  the  country,  where  she  remained  much 
longer  than  she  had  anticipated,  and  on  her  return  to 
ihe  city,  she  immediately  proceeded  to  Clara's  residence. 
Her  astonishment,  however,  was  great"  to  find  a  pile  of 
ruins,  denoting  that  the  building  had  fallen  a  prey  to 
the  flames,  nor  did  her  persevering  efforts  to  discover 
the  object  of  her  search,  bring  her  any  nearer  to  the 
desire  of  her  heart. 

Often,  very  often,  would  she  sit,  and  sigh,  and  wonder 
what  had  been  the  destiny  of  the  poor  orphan,  and  she 
hoped,  almost  against  hope,  that  the  ^^  brighter  hours^' 
had  come  for  her. 

Mr.  Oatman,  from  whom  she  had  obtained  work,  un- 
til the  state  of  her  health  compelled  her  to  change  the 
employment,  was  applied  to,  but  he  could  only  trace 
her  to  an  establishment  in  Broadway,  where  he  had  re- 
commended her.  All  trace  of  her  was  lost,  and  Eva 
could  only  hope  that  the  trust  and  confidence  in  the 
goodness  of  God,  which  was  always  her  own  sole  re- 
liance, had  supported  the  poor  girl  through  life,  and  if 
death  had  claimed  her  as  his  victim,  had  opened  to  her 
an  entrance  into  that  kingdom  where  toils  and  troubles  | 
cease  for  ever. 


THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  131   \ 

{ 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


Clara  felt  lonely  and  weary  at  heart  when  she  found 
herself  deprived  of  the  company  of  Eva,  for  she  had 
so  linked  herself  with  her  own  destiny,  she   looked  to  \ 
her  with  the  same  coniidence  she  would  have  enter- 
tained for  a  beloved  sister. 

Her  many  acts  of  unobtrusive  kindness  during  the 
long  continued  illness  of  Laura,  were  remembered  with 
the  most  grateful  emotions,  and  she  never  forgot  to 
offer  up  daily  prayers  for  her  happiness,  in  whatever 
sphere  her  lot  might  be  cast. 

The  unceasing  watchings  and  attentions  required  by 
Laura  in  the  last  few  weeks  of  her  existence  had  made  j 
sad  inroads  upon  Clara's  health,  and  she  felt  the  ne- 
cessity of  having  some  relaxation  from  her  arduous 
labors.     But  how  could  she  enjoy  this  ?     She  knew 
that  the  kind-hearted  woman  with  whom  she  boarded,  J 
could  not  afford  to  keep  her  without  promptly  receiving  ) 
her  board,  however  willing  she  might  be  to  do  so ;  for  ; 
she  had  to  struggle  hard  enough  herself  to  procure  a 
maintenance  for  herself  and  child.     She  must,  there- 
fore, work,  although  she  felt  more  like  going  to  her 


j  132  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

bed,  and  receiving  the  attention  and  kindness  which 
her  weak  state  of  health  demanded,  than  sitting  for 
twelve  and  fourteen  hours  a  day  at  work. 

Mr.  Oatman,  the  friend  of  Eva,  continued  to  provide 
for  her  work,  of  the  same  kind  as  that  she  had  been 
engaged  upon,  but  she  found  it  impossible,  after  a  few  ( 
week's  further  trial,  to  continue  at  it.     Her  strength  \ 
was  inadequate  to  sew  on  such  heavy  material  as  that  ( 
from  which  the  over-alls  were  made,  and  before  long  ( 
she  found  herself  under  the  absolute  necessity  of  seek-  I 
ing  other  employment  which  should  not  be  so  hard,  and 
the  more  especially  was  she  urged  to  this,  as  her  strength 
now  permitted  her  to  earn,  at  the  utmost,  a  dollar  and  a 
shilling  a  week,  and  this  with  twelve  hours  of  incessant 
toil. 

Through  the  recommendation  of  this  kind-hearted 
(  man,  and  thanks  to  the  kindness  of  Eva  Bellamy,  who 
j  had  urged  him  to  befriend  the  unfortunate  orphan, 
during  her  absence  from  the  city,  she  was  enabled  to 
procure  some  shirts  to  make  up  from  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  establishments  in  Broadway,  for  which  she 
was  to  receive  three  shillings  each.  The  material  j 
being  lighter,  she  felt  confident  that  she  could  earn  { 
more  with  less  bodily  labor,  and  miserable  as  was  the 
price  to  be  paid  for  her  labor  on  them,  she  received 
them  with  a  grateful  heart. 

She  was,  however,  not  very  long  in  making  the  dis- 
covery that  she  had  not  made  a  change  for  the  better. 
The  garments  were  required  to  be  made  with  great 
neatness,  and  before  she  had  worked  one  week  at  them. 


I  THE    ELLIOTT    I AMILY.  133  J 

•  she  found  that  the  fine  stitching  was  wearing  upon  her 
!  eye-sight.  She  endeavored  to  persuade  herself  that 
j  this  was  only  occasioned  by  working  at  night,  so  she  I 
)  determined  to  rise  at  an  earlier  hour  in  the  morning,  j 
j  and  not  sew  any  more  at  night  than  was  absolutely  ne-  I 
I  cessary  to  enable  her  to  earn  enough  to  pay  her  board.  ( 
j  For  another  week  she  adhered  to  this  change,  and,  j 
{  although  she  found  her  eye-sight  improved,  she  felt  that  \ 
I  her  strength  was  sinking  under  her  dreadful  overtask- 

\  ing.     But  what  could  she  do  ?     She  must  sew  on,  or  S 

•  starve,  and  with  a  frame  gradually  wasting  away  for  ' 
(  the  want  of  exercise  and  wholesome  air — with  spirits  ;. 
{  depressed  from  being  cut  off  from  all  social  intercourse —  ; 
j  with  a  heart  filled  with  despair,  as  she  trusted  herself  \ 
}  to  look  at  the  dreary  prospect  before  her,  she  worked  J 
Ion.  _  ; 
i  At  length  she  grew  so  weak  she  could  no  longer  sit  i 
j  up  to  sew,  but,  propping  herself  up  in  her  humble  bed  \ 
\  with  pillows,  she  continued  her  cheerless  task — the  kind  ■ 

landlady  taking  her  work  to  the  shop  when  finished,  !         ^ 
1  and  bringing  home  more  as  required.  j       / 

j       No  one  will  expect  me  to  paint  the  feelings  of  the  ) 

desolate,  broken-hearted  orphan,  as  she  pursued  in  j 
j  dreary  solitude  her  daily  work.  At  times,  memory  ;, 
'  would  bring  to  her  the  happy  days  gone  by ;  when,  ) 

blessed  with  every  comfort  which  the  care  of  affectionate  : 
j  parents  could  procure,  her  life  glided  on  in  one  stream  ^ 

of  peaceful  happiness.  She  thought  of  those  earlier  '. 
j  days  with  bitterness,  but  she  never  dared  to  indulge  the  '. 
J  hope  that  even  their  shadows  might  return  to  her.    She  J 


)   134  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  J 

J  tried  to  make  her  heart  believe  that  "  brighter  hours  "  j 
might  come,  but  as  each  day  passed  over,  the  darkness  i 
S  seemed  to  grow  more  deep  and  black  around  her,  and 
!  she  sunk  into  utter,  hopeless  despair. 
j      She  thought  of  her  dear  mother,  and  oh,  how  she 
j  wished  from  her  heart  of  hearts  that  she  might  have 
I  been  spared  to  her ;  not  that  she  too  might  pass  her  ( 
I  days  and  nights  in  unrequited  toil,  but  that  she  might  ( 
I  be  cheered  by  her  presence — inspired  by  her  admoni-  ( 
I  tions — encouraged  by  her  sympathy,  and  blessed  by  ! 
)  her  affection.     She  checked  herself  then,  for  she  felt  | 
j  that  such  a  mother  was  far  happier  now,  and  she  derived  J 
)  some  consolation  in  the  reflection  that  she  could  not 
j  much  longer  be  separated  from  her. 
j      Laura,  too,  the  loving  sympathizing  sister,  who  had 
I  gone  to  join  their  mother  in  Heaven,  often  rose  up  be- 
J  fore  her,  and  so  real  did  her  presence  sometimes  seem 
j  to  the  desolate  girl,  she  almost  felt  that  she  had  been 
;  with  her  in  person,  and  had  communed  with  her.  j 

j  And  Eva  Bellamy,  the  kind,  benevolent  Eva,  whose  j 
j  sympathy  had  so  often  lightened  her  weary  heart  of  } 
j  half  its  load.  How  she  did  long  for  her  presence  once  > 
j  more.  She  felt  that  one  moment  of  communion  with  > 
i  her  would  re-animate  her  sinking  frame  and  give  her  J 
j  renewed  strength,  for  in  her  presence  she  could  not  feel  ! 
/  desponding.  But  no — all  comfort  was  denied  to  her.  • 
\  In  the  solitude  of  her  cheerless  chamber — propped  up  ) 
(  in  her  bed,  she  pursued  her  weary  task,  and  found  no  J 
1  peace,  no  ray  of  hope,  no  glimmer  of  light,  save  when, 
\  forgetting  all  the  changing  vanities  of  earth,  she  turned  | 


her  thpughts  to- God.  and  heaven.  Then  a  holy  peace- 
ful calm  would  steal  over  her  soul,  and,  for  a  time,  ii\ 
the  blissful  anticipations  of  the  great  and  endless  future, 
she  forgot  the  suffering,  the  misery,  the  anguish  of  the 
present.  Daily  her  thoughts  ascended  more  frequently 
and  fervently  to  God,  and  at  length  she  was  enabled,  in 
answer  to  her  unceasing  prayers,  to  look  forward  to  the 
hour  which  should  end  her  course  on  earth,  as  the  only 
S  blessing  yet  unbestowed  on  her. 

One  night,  after  working  rather  later  than  usual,  she 

)  laid  her  task  aside,  and  was  preparing  to  retire  for  the 

/  night,  when,  fancying  she  perceived  a  smell  of  smoke, 

I  as   from   wood  burning,  she  called  to  Mrs.   Stewart, 

}  whose  room  adjoined  her  own,  for  she  was  too  feeble 

J  to  be  capable  of  any  great  exertion  herself. 

)      Mrs.  Stewart,  who  had  retired,  worn  out  and  ex- 

;  hausted  with  her  day's  toil,  was  fast  asleep,  and  had 

}  not  awakened.     As  the  smell  became  more  and  more 

perceptible,  Clara's  fears  gave  her  strength,  and  she 

opened  her  door,  to  examine   for  herself.     A  single 

glance  sufficed  to  inform  her  that  there  was  fire  some- 

\  where  very  near,  for  she  saw  volumes  of  smoke  rising 

from  the  lower  floor. 
(       The  urgency  of  the  occasion  imparted   more  than 
j  usual  strength  to  Clara,  and  summoning  all  her  ener- 
\  gies,  she  aroused  Mrs.  Stewart  effectually,  and  snatch-  \ 
)  ing  her  child  from  the  cradle  where  it  was  asleep,  hur-  I 
\  ried  down  stairs,  shouting  at  the  top  of  her  feeble  voice,  j 
{  in  order  to  alarm  the  other  inmates  of  the  burning  build-  j 
)  ing.     She  had  not  been  too  prompt,  for  scarcely  had  she  ■ 


j  136  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  j 

reached  the  street,  when  the  flames  burst  forth  from  the 
lower  room,  and  before  a  general  alarm  could  be  given,  j 
the  building  was  wrapped  in  flames,  beyond  the  hope  ) 
of  preservation,  and  all  the  eflbrts  of  the  generous  fire-  | 
men  were  turned  to  save  the  adjoining  dwellings.  [ 

Without  shedding  a  single  tear,  Clara,  seated  on  the 
steps  of  a  house  opposite,  watched  the  ravages  of  the 
devouring  element,  as  it  roared  and  raged  through  the  ; 
building,  and  in  a  few  minues,  that  which  before  had  ) 
been  her  home — cheerless  though  it  was — lay  before  her 
a  heap  of  smouldering  ruins.  j 

She  had  been  unable  to  save  one  single  article  of  her  i 
clothing,  and  what  grieved  her  yefmore,  even  amid  the 
horrors  of  the  scene,  was  the  certainty  that  the  work  J 
she  had  obtained  from  the  shop  to  make  up,  had  fallen  j 
a  prey  to  the  flames. 

Tears  at  length  did  come  to  her  relief — bitter,  scald-  j 

ing  tears — and  they  coursed  down  her  wan  cheek,  as  j 

she  reflected  on  her  truly  desolate  situation.     Without  { 

a  shelter  to  cover  her — without  a  single  article  of  cloth-  [ 

ing,  save  those  she  had  on,  when  she  made  her  escape  [ 

from  the  burning  building — without  one  friend  in  the  / 

wide  world,  save  Eva,  and  she  absent  from  the  city, 

I  where  could  she  turn  ?  what  could  she  do  ?  I 

(      Burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  yielded  to  her  j 

}  feelings,  and  prayed  that  the  great  God  would  spare  i 

\  her  further  suflering,  and  take  her  to  himself.     But  the  j 

(  cup  destined  to  be  drained  by  her,  was  not  yet  emptied  \ 

I  of  all  its  bitterness.     How  long  she   remained  in  this  \ 

)  position,  she  knew  not,  but  she  was  aroused  by  a  gentle 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  137  \ 

I  touch  on  the  arm,  and  looking  up,  she  saw  before  her  j 
(  one  of  the  city  watchmen.  j 

\  "  Come,  I  guess  it's  time  for  you  to  go  home,"  he  said,  | 
\  in  tones  which  he  intended  to  be  civil,  but  which  grated  ' 
\  most  harshly  upon  her  feelings.  I 

(       "  Home !  sir  ?  alas,  I  have  now  no  home.     There  was  I 
\  my  home  a  few  hours  ago,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  still 
(  smoking  ruins.  ; 

!  "  Well,  I  guess  you'd  better  go  and  find  your  friends,  j 
;  then.     It  won't  do  to  be  sitting  here  all  night.     They  j 

will  give  you  a  home,  of  course,  under  these  circum- 
s  stances." 

(  "  I  have  now  no  home  on  earth,  and  no  friend  but 
i  God.  1  am  sure,  sir,  I  know  not  where  to  go,  or  whi- 
\  ther  to  turn." 

J  "  Then  you'd  better  go  to  the  watch-house  with  me," 
(  replied  the  man,  whose  rough  nature  was  touched  by 
(  her  evident  distress,  and  who  knew  of  no  other  course  to 
^  advise. 

(       Clara  shrunk   back  at  the  mention  of  the  watch-  \ 
I  house,  for  every  idea  she  had  ever  formed  of  that  place 
}  was  abhorrent,  and  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
{  being  shut  up  with  vagrants,  felons,  drunkards,  and 
i  the  like. 

J       The  watchman  at  once  interpreted  her  feelings,  and 
(  kindly  assured  her  that  she  should  be  made  perfectly 
(  comfortable,  and  would  be  left  alone  as  much  as  possi- 
(  ble.     He  pointed  out  the  folly  of  sitting  there  alone  in  i 
'^  the  night  air,  and  convinced  her  that  she  would  be  none  \ 
\'  the  better  off  by  remaining  there,  than  by  going  with  ( 


)   138  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY 

) 
\ 

)  him.      Conquering,  therefore,  her  repugnance,  she  ac-  ) 

'.  companied  the  guardian  of  the  night,  and  true  to  his  } 

I  promise,  he  did  make  her  comfortable,  and  placed  her  J 

[  apart  from  the  other  inmates,  so  that  except  being  com-  ! 

')  pelled  to  hear  what  was  passing,  she  was  comparatively  I 

\  alone.  ( 

j       In  the  morning,  when  the  watch  was  discharged,  she  ( 

)  was  told  that  she  had  better  be  going,  as  the  watch-  ! 

\  house  was  about  to  be  closed  ;  so  thanking  the  men  for  j 

the  shelter  afforded  her — for  rest  she  had  not  enjoyed —  j 

she  left.  \ 

Faint,  weary  and  hungry,  and  with  scarcely  strength  I 

left  to  walk,  she  moved  on  unconsciously,  not  knowing  j 

whither  she  was  going,  nor  having  any  purpose  in  view.  \ 

Her  steps  led  her  to  the  Park,  and  seeing  a  large  num-  j 

\  ber  of  females  gathered  about  the  door  of  a  long,  yellow  ' 

)  building,  she  inquired  of  one  who  passed  her,  stagger-  { 

I  ing  under  a  heavy  bag,  filled  with  something  she  could  1 

I  not  tell  what,  as  to  the  cause  of  the  gathering. 

'       The  woman  stared  at  her  for  an  instant,  as  if  in  won- 

j  der  at  her  ignorance,  and  replied :  j 

"  Sure  and  it's  the  Alms- House."  ) 

Clara  had  heard  of  the  Aims-House  before,  and  the  j 

blood  mounted  to  her  pale  cheeks,  as  she  thought  that  j 

now  she  must  go  there  or  starve.     She  soon  reached  the  i 

\  door,  but  on  looking  in,  perceived  that  the  large  room 

}  in  which  the  office  was  held,  was  densely  crowded,  so  { 

\  densely,  hours  must  elapse  ere  her  turn  could  come  to  j 

\  apply,  and  as  she  had  not  the  strength  to  stand  up  while  ! 

waiting,  she  withdrew,  and  seated  herself  upon  a  pile 


J  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  139 

',  of  stones  near  the  door,  for  there  was  no  other  place  for 
)  her,  the  door  steps  even  being  crowded  with  applicants, 
j  nearly  every  one  of  whom  were  Irish  women. 
(  She  saw  some  of  them  go  down  into  the  large  cellar, 
.  and  soon  after  return  laden  with  a  bag,  or  a  basket,  full 
\  of  potatoes,  and  she  inquired  of  another  woman,  who 
j  had  taken  a  seat  near  her  on  the  stones,  if  that  was  all 
[  the  relief  they  received. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply  ;  "sometimes  they  give  what 

they  call  out-door  relief,  to  those  whom  they  think  need 

it." 

"In  what  shape?" 

"  Why,  two  shillings,  or  perhaps  four  shillings  a 

week,  in  cash,  and  in  winter  time,  perhaps  a  half  a 

load  or  so  of  wood  during  the  season." 

"  God  help  the  poor  !"  involuntarily  exclaimed  Clara. 
!  "  But,"  she  added,  "  do  they  not  admit  them  into  the 
j  Aims-House,  when  they  really  require  it  ?" 
J  "  Oh  yes,  when  it  is  not  too  full ;  but  now  they 
<  say  it  is  overflowing,  and  they  can't  take  in  any 
^  more." 

'       "  Then  you  don't  think  I  can  get  in  ?"  was  the  in- 
j  quiry  again. 

i      "No,  I  haven't  the  least  idea  you  can  just  now. 
]  However,   there's   nothing   like   trying.     But   there's 
(  one  thing  very  much  against  you." 
[      "  And  what  is  that  ?"  asked  Clara,  in  some  astonish- 
i  ment. 

j       "  Why,  you  ain't  a  foreigner." 
)       This  was  a  riddle  to  Clara,  and  as  she  did  not  think  | 


{  140  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  ) 

)  the  solution  would  add  much  to  her  information,  she  1 
\  forbore  asking  any  further  questions,  and  the  woman 
i  soon  after  left  her.  ..^  j 

(       For  four  weary  hours  did  Clara  Elliott  remain  seat-  } 
ed  there.     Not  a  morsel  of  food  had  passed  her  lips  J 
(  since  early  on  the  previous  evening.      She  was  faint,  \ 
<  weary  and  broken-hearted,  and  she  longed  to  lie  down  J 
and  die.  \ 

j  At  length  there  seemed  a  chance  that  she  might  gain  I 
(  admittance,  and  with  an  effort,  for  she  was  fairly  stif- 
j  fened  by  remaining  so  long  seated,  she  arose  from  her 
(  seat  on  the  stones,  and  made  her  way  into  the  office, 
(  where  she  found  only  two  or  three  of  the  females 
(  in  waiting. 

(  When  they  had  gone,  she  moved  up  to  the  desk,  and 
i  holding  by  the  rail  which  ran  across  it  for  support,  she 
j  preferred  her  request  for  relief,  the  blood  mounting  to 
J  the  very  roots  of  her  hair,  and  scalding  tears  forcing 
j  themselves  from  her  eyes  as  she  did  so. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  asked  a  clerk,  very  gruffly. 

"  Clara  Elliott,"  was  the  reply.  | 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  j 

"  I  have  no  home,  sir."  > 

"  Oh,  T  see,"  said  a  portly,  well-fed,  sleek-looking  man  J 

behind  the  bar,  gazing  at  her  over  his  gold  spectacles ;  } 

"sick,  and  turned  out  of  doors,  eh?"  } 

Clara  did   not   understand  the   full   import  of  this  j 

question,  and  in  the  innocence  of  her  heart  she  replied  ) 

to  him,  though  had  she  understood  the  insinuation  in-  J 

tended  to  be  conveyed,  she  would  have  died  of  starva-  J 


h 


0- 

{  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  141 

j  tion  at  his  feet,  before  a  word  would  have  passed  her 
1  lips  in  answer  to  such  a  question : 

"  I  am  in  very  feeble  health,  sir,  and  was  turned  out 

of  my  home  last  night  by  a  fire,  which  destroyed  the 
I  house  in  which  I  boarded." 

}  "Well,  what  do  you  expect  we  can  do  for  you?" 
\  asked  the  portly  gentleman,  apparently  getting  tired  of 
J  the  conversation. 

!  "  I  do  not  know,  sir.  1  am  suffering  now  from  actual 
(  hunger,  I  have  no  home — no  friends,  nor  means." 
S  "  Well,  do  you  want  to  go  up  ?" 
J  "I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir,"  replied  Clara, 
j  and  she  really  did  not.  Thebrute  had  takeiiL-.it  for 
Lgranted,  because  Clara  was  pale  and  thin,  and  con- 
l  fessed  that  she  was  in  ill  health,  that  she  was  one  of 
i^ose  unfortunate  girls  whom  despair  does  sometimes 
j  drive  to  lead  a  life  of  sin,  in  preference  to  a  death  by 
/  starvation,  and  who  sometimes  are  sent  up  to  the  hospi- 
i  tal,  at  the  public  expense. 

I  "  I  suppose  you  have  never  been  up  before  ?"  he 
\  asked,  as  if  he  well  knew  that  she  had,  but  would  deny 
)  it  to  him. 

j  "  Never,  sir ;  and  I  don't  even  know  what  you  mean 
(  by  'going  up.'  If  you  can  send  me  where  I  shall  re- 
;  ceive  food  and  shelter,  I  shall  be  truly  grateful." 
j  "  Well,"  rejoined  the  inquisitor,  who  began  to  feel 
I  that  he  might  be  mistaken,  "  we  have  no  room  in  the 
!  Aims-House  just  now.      Come  next  week,  on  Wednes-  j   \ 

day,  (this  was  Wednesday,)  and  we  shall  see  what  we  i    1 

can  do  for  you." 


(  142  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  j 

"  I  shall  die  of  starvation  before  that  time,  sir,"  urged  S 
Clara,  whose  strength  was  fast  giving  way.  i 

"  Oh,  no  danger  of  that.  Folks  never  starve  in  New-  j 
York  ;  we  take  loo  good  care  of  them  for  that.  Here,  ) 
James,  give  this  girl  a  quarter,  and  charge  it  to  the  out-  J 
door  account."  j 

(      The  clerk  threw  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  to  her,  and  j 
said :  j 

j      "There;   go  along  now;  come   next   week — go) 
along."  1 

With  a  bursting  heajt,  Clara  withdrew  from  the 
room,  and  again  seating  herself  pn  the  same  pile  of 
stones,  gave  way  to  a  flood  of  bitter  tears.     No  one,  j 
however,  seemed  to  take  any  notice  of  her,  each  being  | 
too  much  occupied  with  his  own  affairs  to  think  of  the  \ 
sufferings  of  another;    and   there  she  remained,  the  } 
generous  sum  given  by  the  proud  city  of  New-York  to  I 
maintain  a  sick  and  starving  girl  for  a  whole  week, 
clutched  in  her  emaciated  hand. 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  143 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


Clara  Elliott  remained  seated  on  the  pile  of  stones 
for  a  long  time,  lost  in  meditation.  Thought,  however, 
brought  no  comfort  to  her,  and,  with  an  effort,  she  arose 
J  and  fairly  staggered  off,  for  she  was  so  weak  and  stif- 
'  fened  from  long  continued  abstinence,  and  from  being 
{  seated  so  long  on  the  cold  hard  stones,  it  was  with  the 
/  utmost  difficulty  she  was  able  to  move  at  all.  She 
•  stopped  at  the  first  baker's  shop  she  reached,  and,  wi^h 
/  a4;iart  of  the  generous  gift  from  the  proud  city  of  New- 
\  York,  whose  representative  boasted  that  people  never 
i  starved  within  her  precincts,  she  purchased  some  bread, 
?  which  she  devoured  with  a  relish  to  be  realized  only 
j  by  those  who  have,  like  her,  suffered  the  pangs  of  hun- 
j  ger.  Having  by  this  frugal,  but  most  acceptable  meal, 
(  gained  a  little  strength,  she  wended  her  way  toward  j 
\  the  scene  of  the  last  night's  conflagration,  and  when  she 
]  reached  it,  the  occurrences  of  that  sad  night  were 
j  brought  to  her  mind  with  such  vivid  freshness  she  could  ' 
/  not  restrain  her  tears. 

j      Before  her  lay  the  ruins  of  that  which,  a  few  short  \ 
\  hours  before,  had  been  a  home  to  her— humble  though  \ 


144  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  j 

it  was.  Beneath  the  smouldering  ruins  lay  the  remains 
of  all  she  had  possessed  on  earth,  and  now  she  was  a  i 
houseless  wanderer,  without  clothes,  without  the  means  ] 
of  procuring  shelter,  without  a  friend  in  the  wide  world,  I 
and  she  looked  upon  the  passing  hundreds  who  went  by  j 
with  feelings  almost  of  envy,  which  must  be  pardoned, 
for  the  thought  came  to  her  heart  that  each  one  had  a  • 
home  and  friends,  and  the  contrast  which  a  few  short  ; 
hours  had  drawn  between  herself  and  them  was  harrow-  } 
ing.  She  remained  seated,  gazing  in  silence  for  some  ( 
time  upon  the  ruin  caused  by  the  devastating  element,  j 
when  she  was  aroused  by  a  voice  which,  before  she  J 
looked  up,  she  recognised  as  that  of  the  kind-hearted  \ 
Mrs.  Stewart.  \ 

"  Why,  Clara,  where  have  you  come  from  ?  I  thought  J 
you  were  burnt  up  in  the  house ;  although  T  was  sure  J 
I  saw  you  go  out  when  you  gave  the  alarm.  Where  ; 
have  you  been  ?"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  gazed  upon  ■ 
Clara,  her  countenance  exhibiting  real  pleasure  at  the  j 
unexpected  meeting.  ^ 

"  To  the  Aims-House  !"  responded  Clara,  sadly,  and  > 
as  she  spoke,  tears  again  broke  forth.  She  could  say  ; 
no  more.  Those  few  words  seemed  to  convey  such  ideas  J 
of  hopeless  misery,  she  felt  that  more  were  useless.        < 

"  But  where  have  you  been  all  night,  I  mean  ?  I  ex-  { 
pect  the  Aims-House  will  be  our  portion  yet  for  good,  ^ 
but  I  hope  not.     Where  did  you  pass  the  night  ?"  > 

*^  In  the  watch-house  !"  > 

\      ^'  Good  Heavens  !  poor  Clara,"  exclaimed  the  kind-  ? 
^  hearted  little  woman,  whose   ideas  of  a  night  in  the  ■ 

4 


J  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  145  [ 

I  watch-house,  even  for  shelter,  were  akin  to  those  of 
^  Clara.  '*'  I  w^nt  in  to  Mrs.  Harris's,  round  the  corner, 
\  after  the  house  was  burned~Udwn,^and"' we  looked  all 
(  over  for  you,  without  being  able  to  find  you.  But 
J  come,  come  in  with  me,  she  gave  me  a  place  to  lie  ' 
J  down  in  last  night,  and  I  am  sure,  though  she  is  poor, 

she  will  not  refuse  you  a  shelter  too.     Every  thing  I 
(  had  in  the  world   was  burnt  up,  and  what  I  am  to  do, 
I  heaven  only  knows.     But  I'll  try  and  not  complain." 
1      Clara  willingly  accompained  her  friend  to  the  house 
(  she  had  spoken  of.     It  was  situated  in  the  rear  of  the  ' 
)  street,  the  entrance  being  through  a  long  dark  alley. 
I  The  room  occupied  by  Mrs.  Harris  was  on  the  second  ^ 
.  floor,  the  ascent  to  which  was  almost  impossible,  so  dark  ' 
{  was  the  entry,  and  so  dilapidated  the  stairs  leading  to 
I  it.     However,  they  managed  to  effect  an  entrance,  and 
V  sad  at  heart  as  was  poor  Clara,  her  soul  revolted  at  the  ' 
j  thought  of  remaining  in  such  a  place.     The  room  was 
j  small  and  darkened  by  the  old  rags  which  had  been 
I  stuffed  into  the  places  left  by  the  broken  panes  of  glass. 
j  On  either  hand  lay  a  pile  of  rags,  which  served  as  a  ' 
J  bed  for  the  miserable  occupant,  while  a  few  broken 

stools  and  an  old  table  formed  the  entire  furniture  of 

the  apartment. 

**  Walk  in,  walk  in,"  said  the  occupant  of  this  den, 

as  Clara  and  her  companion  reached  the  door.     "  You 

are  welcome,  God  knows,  to  such  as  I  have  got." 
Clara  looked  at  the  speaker,  who  was  seated  by  the 
j  window  on  one  of  the  broken  stools,  sewing  upon  some 
\  coarse  flannel  shirts,  but  she  did  not  rise  from  her  work. 


> 


/ 
( 


146  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

She  seated  herself,  and  gave  way  to  her  feelings  in 
tears.  She  knew  it  was  wrong — perhaps  sinful,  thus 
to  yield  to  her  grief,  but,  for  her  life,  she  could  not  re- 
press them. 

"  Come,  my  dear,  don't  cry.  That  won't  mend  your 
situation  at  all.  I  have  lived  in  this  room,  just  as  you 
see  it,  for  two  years ;  and  I  have  to  work  so  hard  to 
keep  soul  and  body  together,  I  have  no  time  for  grief. 
If  you  are  the  girl  Mrs.  Stewart  has  spoken  of,  you  are 
perfectly  welcome  to  stay  here  as  long  as  you  choose." 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Clara,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  en- 
deavoring to  compose  herself.  "  I  will  tiy  and  not 
give  way  to  grief  again,  but  I  could  not  help  it  now. 
I  see  you  have  work — can  you  tell  me  where  I  can  get 
some  ?" 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  know ;  unless,  perhaps,  where  I  pro- 
cured this.    I  have  been  four  months  before  this,  without 
a  stitch.     I  had  two  children,  but  they  died  a  month 
ago  of  actual  starvation — for  all  I  could  get  for  them  I 
had  to  beg  for  in  the  streets.     I  wandered  about  day 
after  day  looking  for  work,  but  I  could  not  find  any, 
until  last  week  I  got  these  shirts  to  make.     They  give  \ 
me  eight  cents  a  piece,  and  I  can  make  ten  a  week,  by 
daylight — I  cannot  work  at  night,  for  I  can't  afford  to  ( 
get  candles.     As  it  is,  I  only  make  enough  to  procure  ) 
food."  i 

"  I  shall  be  thankful  even  for  that,"  said  Clara,  "  for  \ 
I  am  entirely  destitute — quite  as  much  so  as  yourself.  J 
I  will  go  out  at  once  and  see  if  I  cannot  get  some  work,  j 
for  I  too  cannot  remain  idle."  ) 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  147  ( 

"  You  had  better  lie  down  and  rest  a  while,"  said  I 
Mrs.  Harris,  kindly.  Mrs.  Stewart  has  been  telling  me  . 
about  you,  and  I  am  glad  I  can  serve  you,  even  by  let-  I 
ting  you  stay  in  this  miserable  hole.  You  are  welcome  1 
to  stay  here  as  long  as  you  choose,  unless  you  can  get  a  < 
better  place.  Do  lie  down,  you  look  as  if  you  could  i 
hardly  stand  up  at  all."  ( 

Clara  declined  her  kind  offer  of  taking  rest,  and,  j 
having  ascertained  the  number  of  the  store  where  Mrs. 
Harris  procured  her  work,  she  started  off.  First,  how-  ', 
ever,  she  determined  to  go  to  the  store  in  Broadway,  [ 
where  she  had  obtained  the  shirts  which  were  destroyed  j 
at  the  time  of  the  fire ;  and  she  hoped  that,  notwith-  ( 
standing  their  loss,  she  would  be  able  to  obtain  more  ( 
from  the  same  place,  for  she  knew  it  was  through  no  j 
fault  on  her  part  that  they  were  destroyed.  J 

In  that  expectation,  however,  she  was  grievously  dis-  j 
appointed.  The  proprietor  listened  to  her  story  with 
something  of  impatience  in  his  manner,  and,  although 
he  could  not  but  be  impressed  with  the  truth  of  her  nar-  j 
rative,  and  with  the  reality  of  her  destitute  situation,  ! 
which  was  fully  vouched  for  by  her  wretched  appear-  | 
ance,  he  refused  to  give  her  any  more  work.  [ 

With  a  heavy  heart  she  went  thence  to  the  store 
named  by  Mrs.  Harris,  and,  on  stating  her  business, 
was  offered  some  coarse  shirts,  BXfive  cents  each. 

She  ventured  to  remonstrate  at  the  inadequacy  of  the 
j  pay,  and  urged  that  she  could  not  live  at  that  rate  ;  but  ! 
the  proprietor  cut  her  short  by  saying  he  could  get  them  L-i 
made  up  by  the  thousand  for  the  same  price  in  the  \ 


fl48 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 


country.  This  recalled  to  her  mind  what  her  mother 
had  said,  respecting  the  mode  by  which  some  employers 
are  enabled  to  have  their  garments  made  up  at  half  the 
usual  prices  by  girls  in  the  country  during  the  winter, 
who  have  nothing  else  to  do  at  that  season. 

The  man,  seeing  her  hesitation,  was  about  replacing 
the  shirts  he  had  laid  before  her,  but,  reflecting  that  she 
must  take  these  or  starve,  she  took  up  the  bundle  and 
departed. 

When  she  re-entered  the  wretched  room  which  was 
henceforward  to  be  her  future  abode,  she  endeavored  to 
appear  more  cheerful,  and  seated  herself  by  the  side 
of  Mrs.  Harris,  to  commence  her  work. 

The  exertion,  however,  of  walking  so  far  in  her 
weakened  state,  had  proved  too  much  for  her.  Excite- 
ment alone  had  enabled  her  to  keep  up  thus  long,  but 
nature  was  now  exhausted,  and  she  had  scarcely  taken 
a  dozen  stitches,  when  she  fell  backward  to  the  floor, 
J  in  a  state  of  insensibility. 

i       Mrs.  Harris  could  do  nothing  for  her  but  rub  her 

,  temples  and  forehead  with  cold  water,  for  she  was  too 

5  poor  to  have  at  command  any  other  restorative,  and 

)  with  this  she  was  at  length  brought  back  to  a  state  of 

j  consciousness.     She  was  utterly  unable,  from  sheer  ex- 

r  haustion,  to  resume  her  work,  and  when  Mrs.  Harris 

(  again  insisted  upon  her  lying  down  and  taking  some 

I  rest,  she  did  not  now  refuse,  but  threw  herself  upon 

the  bundle  of  rags,  which  had  been  the  resting  place 

of  Mrs.  Harris  for  so  many  weary  months,  and  was  soon 

lQ$t  in  profound  sleep. 


)  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  149 

She  slept  until  a  late  hour  in  the  morning,  and  when 
she  awoke,  Mrs.  Harris  was  again  seated  by  the  win- 
dow at  her  work. 

"  Come,  Clara,"  said  the  kind-hearted  woman,  who 
could  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  orphan,  "  here 
is  some  breakfast  for  you  ;  get  up,  and  it  will  give  you 
strength,  poor  as  it  is.  I  have  had  no  better  for  the  last 
twelve  months." 

The  breakfast  consisted  of  a  piece  of  dry  bread,  and 

some  salt  mackerel,  which  she  was  glad  to  wash  down 

)  with  some  water,  drank  from  an  old  broken  tea-cup, 

the  only  one  owned  by  Mrs.  Harris ;  and  wretched  as 

such  a  breakfast  was,  it  did  afford  some  strength. 

By  working  with  less  assiduity  than  she  had  been 
wont  to  use,  she  gradually  gained  a  little  strength,  and 
in  a  few  days  she  was  comparatively  restored.  By  or- 
dinary exertion,  she  was  able  to  earn  sixty  cents  in  a 
week  at  the  shirts,  and  as  that  would  procure  food 
enough  to  keep  off  starvation,  she  was  fain  to  be  con- 
tent. 

In  this  manner,  and  with  the  kind  Mrs.  Harris,  she 
lived  for  four  months,  never  earning  more  than  seventy 
cents  each  week,  and  receiving  even  that  thankfully. 

The  winter  season  was  now  rapidly  approaching,  and 
they  were  actually  suffering  from  cold.  An  applica^  j 
tionto  the  Aims-House  procured  for  therr^  half  a  load  ( 
of  wood,  which  they  carried  into,  their  own  room— for  \ 
they  dared  not  leave  it  exposed  where  others  quite  as  | 
poor,  but  not  so  conscientious,  as  themselves,  could  get  J 
at  it.     By  usir^g  this  with  the  greatest  economy,  and;  by  ( 


filling  up  the  cracks  in  the  doors  and  sides  of  their  j 
rooms  with  rags,  they  managed  to  keep  themselves  from  i 
freezing.  And  thus  they  lived,  and  toiled,  and  kept  ( 
starvation  from  their  door.  ( 

Thus  long  they  had  been  allowed  to  occupy  the  miser-  j 
able  room  without  paying  any  rent,  but  the  owner  had  ( 
recently  sold  the  lot,  and  the  new  landlord  had  deter- 
mined on  tearing  down  the  wretched  shanties  on  it,  and  ( 
erect  comfortable  buildings  in  their  stead.  This  rendered 
their  removal  necessary,  and  they  started  offin  search  of  j 
other  apartments,  and  after  many  weary  days,  they  found  > 
a  room,  in  one  of  the  streets  near  the  east  river,  which  ( 
they  were  allowed  to  occupy  for  Jlfty  cents  a  week.  ] 
No  where  could  they  procure  one  at  a  less  rate,  and  j 
even  at  this  exorbitant  rent,  they  were  glad  to  have  a  S 
shelter.  | 

Into  this  new  room  they  removed  ;  but  now  another  j 
difficulty  presented  itself:  no  more  work  could  be  had.  n 
The  proprietor  of  the  store  for  which  they  had  worked,  j 
had  now  as  large  a  stock  as  he  wanted  made  up,  prin- 
cipally by  girls  in  the  country,  at  rates  less  than  half  i 
those  paid  to  women  in  the  city,  and  until  that  was  ex-  f 
hausted,  he  could  give  them  no  more.  ( 

Day  after  day,  they  wandered  about,  seeking  employ-  j 
ment,  but  in  vain,  and  they  were  reduced  to  begging) 
from  door  to  door  for  victuals  to  keep  them  from  star-; 
vation.  A  second  application  to  the  Aims-House  for 
wood  was  refused,  nor  could  any  entreaties  induce  those  } 
^  in  authority  there,  to  give  them  the  smallest  relief.  ; 
Entreaties  to  be  sent  to  the  Aims-House  were  disre-  , 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  151 


garded  :  it  was  crowded  now,  and  they  had  already  so 
many  on  the  out-door  books,  their  appropriations  were 
nearly  exhausted.  v^ 

I  can  follow  them  no  further,  but  will  only  add  my 
"amen"  to  Clara's  ejaculation,  as  she  sat  on  the  stones  (     V 
by  the  Aims-House  :  "God  help  the  poor  !" 


152  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


One  year  makes  no  very  great  changes  in  the  face 
of  nature,  and  perhaps,  as  a  general  rule,  does  not  affect 
materially  the  condition  of  mankind.  But  when  sick- 
ness, poverty  and  distress  are  crowding  thick  and  fast 
upon  us — when  gloomy  forebodings,  or  the  dark  shades 
of  despair  are  threatening  our  way,  the  year  can  then 
bring  changes,  which  the  heart  would  fain  not  realize. 

One  year  has  passe(?    *nce  Eva  Bellamy  parted  from  i 
Clara  Elliott,  and  dui  ^ig  that  time,  though  she  had  ( 
neglected  no  opportunity  of  making  inquiries,  she  had  ( 
not  been  able  to  obtain   any  tidings  concerning  her.  ( 
Yet  was  she  not  forgotten.     Eva  ceased  not  to  remem-  j 
ber  her  in  her  daily  prayers  to  that  kind  Providence  j 
whose  protecting  power  was  spread  alike  over  the  des- 
tinies of  both.      Clara  had  been  from  infancy  the  child  | 
of  many  prayers,  and  now  when  the  voice  of  parents 
and  sister  were  hushed  in  death — when  no  longer  arose,  ! 
morning  and  evening,  their  earnest  solicitations  at  the  < 
Throne  of  Grace  for  her  welfare,  sympathy  and  Christian  i 
love  in  the  heart  of  Eva  Bellamy  had  come  to  supply  j  , 
their  place. 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  153  j 

Let  US  turn  to  Mr.  Simmons,  and  his  family.  He 
had  taken  a  large  house  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city, 
for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  boarding-house,  at  the 
earnest  instigation  of  his  daughters,  who  felt  that  their 
only  chance  for  matrimony  now,  was  to  be  found  in 
such  an  establishment. 

The  house  was  well  furnished,  the  rooms  were  all 

filled,  and  the  girls  for  a  time  seemed  happy  in  the 

change.     But  it  was  too  great  a  change  for  them  to 

bear  in  quiet.     With  the  comparative  prosperity  which 

I  their  father  now  enjoyed,  their  visions  of  ambition  grew 

(  stronger  and  stronger,  until  they  began  again  to  enter- 

/  tain  the  idea  that  they  were  once  nioro  on  the  road  to 

/  the  temple  of  rank  and  fashion,  from  v/hich  they  had  so 

long  been  excluded,  by  reason  of  their  poverty.     The 

•  consequence  was,  that  they  adopted  such  airs  as  dis- 

(  gusted  the  more  sensible  and  worthy  of  their  boarders, 

)  who  might  perchance  have   been    attracted  by  their 

I  beauty  or  their  accomplishments — for  they  were  both 

beautiful  and  accomplished. 
(      They  insisted  upon  dressing  in  the  most  expensive  and 
(  fashionable  style,  and  in  consequence,  their  extravagance 
J  deterred  more  than  one  who  would  have  made  them  good 
;  husbands,  from  venturing  into  matrimony  with  such  ex- 
travagant and  reckless  partners.     Another  consequence  | 
J  was,  that  Mr.  Simmons  became  again  involved  through  j 
their  extravagant    expenditures   for  dress  and  show.  ) 
His  furniture  was  seized,  and  he  was  again  compelled 
to  retire  to  his  salary  as  clerk.  j 

The  girls,  however,  were  determined  not  to  submit  ) 


\. 


154  THE   ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 

long  to  this  third  change  in  silence,  and  they  soon  after- 
ward brought  grief  and  shame  upon  their  parents,  by- 
connecting  themselves  with  men  of  abandoned  princi- 
ples, whom  they  had  met  in  some  of  their  Sunday 
jaunts. 

Euphemia  became  the  wife,  or  rather  the  servant,  of 
a  noted  gambler,  whose  only  recommendations  were  a 
fine  person,  a  great  display  of  jewelry,  and  an  impu- 
dence which  nothing  could  put  to  blush. 

Maria  soon  followed  the  example  set  by  her  sister, 
and  was  married  to  the  keeper  of  a  billiard  saloon, 


whose  days  and  nights  were~passed  in  one  continued 
round  of  reckless  dissipation.  She  scarcely  ever  saw 
him,  except  on  Sundays,  and  then  he  was  always  so 
engaged  with  some  of  his  bar-room  friends,  she  never 
had  the  opportunity  of  going  with  him  in  his  excur- 
j  sions. 

(      The   reader   can   readily  imagine   the  consequent 
)  misery  of  their  career.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simmons  remain 
the  same  worldly-minded,  selfish,  calculating  couple. 
(  The  salary  which  he  receives,  enables  him  to  live  in 
(  comparative  comfort ;  and  without  a  thought  or  care  for 
j  the  future,  their  days  glide  on  in  noiseless  apathy,  which  I 
will  only  be  disturbed  by  the  rushing  of  the  mighty  ) 
waters  on  the  sea  of  eternity,  toward  which  they  are  so  ! 
surely  and  steadily  advancing.  ( 

But  let  us  turn  to  the  contemplation  of  other  and  more  i 
agreeable  changes.     What  has  one  year  accomplished 
I  for  good  or  evil  in  the  career  of  Eva  Bellamy  ?  \ 

[      One  lovely  moonlight  evening,  she  might  have  been  ) 


:  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  15"5    ^ 

;  seen  walking  with  a  gentleman  in  the  upper  part  of  our  j 
j  city.  The  quiet  calmness  of  the  hour,  has  shed  its  { 
j  softening  influence  upon  the  hearts  of  both,  which  the  \ 
(  noise  and  activity  around  them  fails  to  dispel.  So  \ 
j  earnestly  are  they  engaged  in  conversation,  they  heed  ) 
\  nothing  of  the  busy  scenes  through  which  they  pass ;  \ 
■  but  with  the  tenderness  of  mutual  love,  they  are  re-  \ 
!  calling  days  gone  by,  while  she  unfolds  the  long  pent  { 
I  secrets  of  her  heart — for  the  time  has  come  when  such  { 
{  may  find  unchecked  expression.  ( 

J  She  now  rests,  with  all  the  trusting  confidence  of  a  ] 
I  loving  and  beloved  woman,  upon  the  arm  of  one  to 
j  whom  long  since  her  heart  was  given.  Nor  had  their's  j 
\  been  a  happy  love,  smiled  upon  by  friends,  and  blessed  \ 
\  of  Providence.  A  pressure  of  most  painful  circum-  j 
j  stances  had  placed  a  barrier  beyond  which  even  ven- 
turous hope — the  potent  comforter  of  all  the  afflict-  \ 
\  ed — had  scarcely  dared  to  look.  But  one  year  had  j 
j  brought  a  joyous  change.     Religion  had  been  Eva's  | 

only  solace  and  stay,  and  by  the  aid  of  divine  grace, 
I  she  had  passed  through  hours  of  trial  and  temptation  ^ 
f  of  no  common  order. 

(  Her  character  had  been  strengthened  and  elevated 
j  by  the  contest ;  but  these  sorrows  had  passed  away, 
and  "  brighter  hours  had  come,"  when  he  who  had 
[  so  well  appreciated  the  excellencies  of  her  heart — who 
j  had  so  long  in  secret  adored,  might  now  avow  to  her, 
and  to  the  world,  the  love  which  through  years  of  trial 
\  had  been  the  guiding  star  of  his  life — love  which  had 
I  whispered  words  of  cheering  to  his  heart,  when  despair. 


156  THE    ELLIOTT     FAMILY. 

at  the  unsuccessful  struggles  of  existence,  seemed  ready 
to  overwhelm. 


H 


Now    all    appeared    forgotten  :    Eva's    former   sad 

thoughtfulness    of  expression    had   given    place   to  a  j 

peaceful  calm,  produced  only  by  the  attainment  of  the  \ 

heart's  dearest,  fondest  wish  ;  and  as  the  moon  irra-  j 

diated  her  fair  and  saint-like  countenance,  it  seemed  to 

beam  with  holy  light,  well  assimilating  with  the  purity 

of  the  heart  within.     Doubts,  fears  and  anxieties  ^arie  ! 

banished.     She  no  longer  treads  the  rough  and  thorny  j 

S  path  of  life  alone,  and  is  looking  forward  with  unalloy-  j 

ed  joy  to  the  hour  which  shall  make  her  the  bride  of 

one,  whose   self-sacrificing  devotion  so  well  deserved  j 

the  love  of  ihe  warm-hearted,  trusting  Eva  Bellamy.  \ 

Though  they  had  passed  unheedingly  on  their  way,  j 

their  course  had  not  been  unheeded.     At  some  distance,  j 

following  with  the  uneven  steps  of  weakness  and  disease,  ) 

was  a  woman,  in  whom  traces  of  beauty  and  better  days  ) 

might  be  marked,  through  the  feeble  and  ragged  appear-  ( 

ance  now  presented.  ] 

They  had  passed,  but  not  noticed  her,  seated  upon  a  \ 

j  stoop,  with  outstretched  hands,  hoping  to  receive  a  few  s 

\  pence,  with  which  she  might  procure  food  and  shelter  j 

!  for  the  night ;  but  she  had  seen  and  recognized  Eva,  ^ 

I  and  hope  and  affection  gave  her  strength  to  track  the  j 

\  footsteps  of  the  only  being  on  earth  around  whom  her  j 

J  affection  lingered  ;  but  shame  or  diffidence — which  not  ) 

^  even  poverty  could  subdue — prevented  her  addressing  'i 

Eva ;  but  she  thought  to  trace  her  to  her  home,  with  the  ( 

strange  hope,  not  of  present  relief,  for  extreme  weak-  ) 


j  THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY.  157 

\  ness  told  her  it  would  not  be  long  before  the  last  sad 
j  parting  hour  must  come,  but  that  she  might  not  die  alone. 
]  " She  will  come,"  said  she  to  herself,  "and  when  dying, 
(  her  sweet  voice  will  bless  me." 

I      Such  was  the  expectation  of  Clara  Elliott — for  she  it 

\  was  who  had  followed,  unperceived,  until  she  saw  Eva 

enter  her  home.     Then  tears,  sad  tears,  came  to  her 

relief ;  the  past  events  of  her  troubled  life  were  drawn 

before  her ;  again  she  watched  beside  the  dying  bed  of 

J  mother  and  sister  ;  again  she  thought  over  the  days  of 

i  wretchedness,  of  weary  suffering,  which  since  then  had 

J  crushed  her  heart ;  but  amid  all  these  gloomy  reflec- 

j  tions,  there    came  one  thought  of  joy  to  her  broken 

heart :  though  starvation  had  often  threatened — though 

unsustained  by  one  word  of  friendly  counsel — though 

temptations  to  vice  from  without  assailed  in  every  form, 

she  had  never  faltered.     Though  a  thousand  times  she  j 

prayed  for  death,  as  a  means  of  relief,  still  no  thought  ) 

of  vice,  as  a  resource,  had  polluted  the  pure  current  of 

\  her  thoughts.     She  had  not  proved  unworthy  of  herself, 

and  could  yet  see  Eva  with  an  unstained  name. 
(       She  now  retraced  her  steps,  and  sought  her  own 
J  wretched  abode,  with  a  more  cheerful  spirit  than  when 
j  she  left.     To  the   poor  woman,  whose  only  bed  she 
i  shared,  she  related  what  had    passed,  and  with  that 
\  strange  kind  of  presentiment  which  sometimes  seems  to  i 
warn  of  approaching  dissolution,  directed  her  to  seek,  i 
}  in  ease  of  need,  the  residenceof  Eva  Bellamy,  and  say,  ( 
\  "  Clara  asked  to  see  her."  i 

)       On  this  same  night  Eva  Bellamy  sought  her  cham-  j 


158  THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

ber,  with  a  heart  filled  with  the  repose  of  present  joy, 
yet  hopes  and  dreams  of  the  future  bade  slumber  fly 
her  pillow.  She  had  not  yet  slept,  when  her  attention 
was  suddenly  arrested,  by  hearing  the  inquiry,  in  a 
strong  Irish  accent : 

"  Sure,  and  is  it  here  that  one  Miss  Eva  Bell — amy 
is  ?  A  poor  crature  that's  been  ailing  a  long  time  sint 
me,  with  this  bit  of  paper,  to  ask  if  the  good  lady  would 
look  in  upon  her.  My  house  isn't  far  up  yonder,  and 
I'll  fetch  her  the  way  meself." 

Eva  took  the  paper,  and  read  with  surprise  the  name 

of  "Clara  Elliott,"  traced  in  such  feeble  characters, 

that  she  knew  she  must  be  very  ill.     She  was  soon  ! 

j  ready,  and  taking  a  few  things  she  thought  might  be  j 

j  necessary,  hastened  to  her  former  friend.  ( 

')      Upon  the  way,  she  gathered  from  the  woman  who  ( 

guided   her,  the   few   past  events  of  Clara's  history, 

with  which  she  was  unacquainted.     They  soon  enter- 

/  ed  the  small,  still  room,  where  on  a  bed  in  one  corner 

lay  the  almost  expiring  Clara.     The  exertions  of  the 

)  evening — the  excitement  of  feeling  she  had  undergone, 

had  hastened  this  event.     Eva  seized  a  candle  which 

{  stood  near,   and  approached  the  bed  of  the  sufferer. 

i  One  glance  sufliced  to  assure  her  that  Clara  Elliott 

\  lay  there  ;  and  the  same  glance  also  told  her,  the  spirit 

j  was  fast  passing  away. 

(      Replacing  the  candle,  she  again  drew  near,  and, 
j  bending  her  face  close  to  that  of  the  hapless  girl,  she 
I  whispered,  gently — "  Clara,  Eva  is  with  you." 
{      The  sufferer,  with  an  effort,  opened  her  eyes  ;  that 


1^ 


THE   ELLIOTT   FAMILY.  159 


beloved  voice  had  been  recognized,  and  a  smile  of  peace 
and  happiness  stole  over  her  wan  features. 

"  Speak  to  me,  dear  Clara !"  she  said,  seizing  the 
hand  of  the  sufferer.  "  Speak  to  me ;  can  I  do  any- 
thing for  you  ?" 

Clara  returned  a  look  of  gratitude  and  affection — her 
wish  was  now  fulfilled.  Her  hand  in  dying  rested 
within  that  of  Eva's,  her  voice  blessed  her — she  did  not 
die  alone,  and  softly,  gently,  did  her  weary,  time-worn 
spirit  return  to  the  God  who  gave  it  being. 

"  You  will  be  rewarded  hereafter,  my  good  woman,'' 
said  Eva,  as  soon  as  her  emotion  would  permit  her  to 
speak.  "  I  will  soon  return  again  to  attend  to  all  things 
necessary." 

"  God  bless  you,  miss ;  I  do  not  wish  to  be  rewarded 
for  my  trouble.  Vm  poor  myself — and  it's  onlyjhe^oor 
that  know  how  to  feel  for  each  other. 

Eva  soon  after  left  the  house,  and,  upon  her  retui 
home,  sought  and  communicated  to  her  betrothed  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  she  had  known  Clara  and  her 
sister ;  and,  as  she  proceeded,  he  could  not  refrain  from 
raising  his  thanks  to  God  for  the  inestimable  blessing 
conferred  upon  him,  in  the  love  of  such  a  woman.  The 
remains  of  Clara  were  decently  interred  by  the  side  of 
her  sister — Eva  and  her  lover  alone  attending  them  to 
their  last  resting  place. 

And  thus  ended  the  career  of  Clara  Elliott,  and  thus^ 
has  ended  that  of  many  before  her. 


160  THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY. 

It  may  to  some  seem  impossible  that  such  a  state  of 
things  can  exist  in  a  great  city  like  that  of  New- York, 
and  yet  it  is  so.  In  the  preceding  pages,  the  author  has 
had  no  occassion  to  draw  upon  his  imagination  for  one 
single  line.  Indisputable  facts — statements  susceptible 
of  ready  proof,  and  the  history  of  a  family,  told  by  one 
who  knew  them,  have  formed  the  basis  of  this  little 
work.  The  citizens  of  New- York  have  long  been  ac- 
customed to  read  in  the  papers  accounts  of  the  distress 
which  prevails  to  a  great  extent  among  the.  female 
operatives,  but  they  are  read  only  to  be  forgotten  in 
the  next  hour  ;  and  it  has  been  in  the  hope  of  arousing  | 
the  attention  of  philanthropists  to  this  subject,  these 
pages  have  been  written. 

There  is  not  a  street  in  the  city  of  New-York  where  | 
more'than  one  family  like  that  of  the  Elliotts  may  not  s 
be  found,  but  with  one  sad  exception.  Few  of  these  j 
females,  when  young,  are  impressed  with  those  stern  j 
principles  of  virtue,  religion,  and  morality,  which,  cling-  | 
ing  to  them  through  all  their  trials  and  temptations,  ( 
enable  them  to  come  off  victorious  in  the  direful  strug-  | 
gle.  How  few  there  are  who,  with  nothing  of  the  future  } 
to  look  to  but  a  life  of  unceasing,  ill- requited  toil — with  j 
the  prospect  of  abject  poverty — sickness,  perhaps  starva-  '■ 
tion,  prefer  to  face  even  that,  relying  upon  the  promises  \ 
held  out  in  the  gospel  for  strength  according  to  their  j 
need,  rather  than,  after  a  brief  pilgrimage,  every  step  j 
of  which  sinks  them  deeper  and  deeper  in  sin — sink  ) 
into  an  untimely  and  a  dishonored  grave.  Such  of  them  j 
whose  early  religious  impressions  have  been  too  feebly  ) 


THE    ELLIOTT   FAMILY.       '  161 

made  to  be  lasting,  see  only  the  dark  side  of  the  picture. 
They  see  only  a  life  of  toil,  suffering,  oppression,  cruelty 
)  and  wrong,  from  those  who  were  given  as  their  guardians 
and  protectors,  and,  preferring  even  a  death  of  shame 
i  when  it  shall  come,  to  such  a  life,  throw  themselves  into 
I  the  vortex,  from  which  no  earthly  power  serves  to  res- 
}  cue  them. 

How  many  of  those  unfortunates  who  throng  our 
streets  are  driven  to  their  course  of  life  by  absolute  des- 
titution. How  many,  placed  by  their  necessities  in  the 
J  power  of  unprincipled  men,  either  employers,  overseers, 
.'  or  clerks,  fall  a  prey  to  them.  But  it  may  be  said  they 
j  earn  proportionately  as  much  as  men,  who  toil  ten  times 
\  more  arduously.     A  brief  calculation  will  show  the 

fallacy  of  this  reasoning. 
I  Females  working  on  shirts  at  three  shillings  each, 
.  can  not  make  more  than  three  in  a  week — thus  earning 
j  nine  shillings.  If  they  can  earn  this  by  working  only 
I  twelve  hours  in  a  day,  they  receive,  at  the  rate  of  one 
<  and  a  half  cents  per  hour.  If,  however,  it  requires 
fourteen  hours  each  day  to  make  the  same  amount, 
they  earn  one  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  cent  per  hour. 

Females  working  on  common  shirts,  at  eight  cents 
each,  for  that  is  the  actual  rate  paid,  earn  twelve  shil- 
lings per  week.  At  twelve  hours  per  day,  they  receive 
two  and  one-eighth  of  a  cent  per  hour  ;  and  at  fourteen 


j  hours,  one  and  nineteen-twentieths  of  a  cent. 


}       Those  who  work  on  custom  vests  at  five  shillings 

each,  earn  two  dollars  and  a  half  per  week.     At  twelve 

,  hours,  they  receive  three  and  a  half  cents  ;  and  at  four- 


162 


THE    ELLIOTT    FAMILY. 


teen  hours,  nearly  three  cents  per  hour.  Now  the  truth  ) 
of  these  calculations  can  be  ascertained  by  any  person  \ 
disposed  to  inquire  into  the  matter  at  all ;  and  will  it  / 
be  longer  a  matter  of  wonder  that  there  should  be  some  j 
found,  who  would  prefer  the  life  they  are  driven  to  lead  j 
than  to  wear  it  out  in  ceaseless  toil,  requited  at  such  ( 
rates  as  those  above  ? 

There  is  a  broad  field  laid  open  to  the  labor  of  the 
philanthropist,  and  to  such  the  work  is  commended,  as 
worthy  of  all  their  exertions  and  all  their  efforts. 

I  have  made  no  attempt  to  appeal  to  the  feelings  of 
those  who  may  have  perused  these  pages.  I  have  nar- 
rated the  simple  truth,  and,  I  repeat,  there  is  not  a  street 
in  New- York  which  cannot  furnish  a  parallel  case. 

In  the  hope  that  the  attention  of  those  who  can  do 
much  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  unfortunate 
class  of  females  to  whom  allusion  is  made,  may  be 
aroused  to  the  task,  these  pages  have  been  written. 
Much  has  been  said  and  more  written  upon  this  sub- 
'  ject,  but  no  combined  effort  has  yet  been  made — no 
step  taken  which  could  tend  to  any  available  end.  A 
change  in  this  condition  of  things  can  be  effected  ;  and 
if,  through  any  thing  here  written,  any  alteration,  how- 
ever slight,  shall  be  made  for  the  better  in  the  prospects 
of  the  female  operatives,  all  the  aim  of  the  author  will 
be  attained ;  and  in  the  consciousness  that  an  impetus 
has  been  given  to  the  good  work,  which  public  feeling 
will  carry  on  to  consummation,  all  the  satisfaction  de- 
I  sired  will  be  obtained. 

j  THE  UND. 


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